Hannah Frank tries to find the words to sum up Russia - November

It is difficult to say everything I want to say about so large a country as Russia in just a few short paragraphs, but for the sake of my friends back home who would like a nice little summary of my adventures, I'll try…

After spending two and a half months baking in the sweltering St. Petersburg summer, I decided it was high time for a change. Russia being the land of extremes that I have found it to be, it is no surprise that after all those tank-top days in St. Petersburg, I now find myself bundled-up in every possible way against the friggedness of Siberia.

While Irkutsk is one of the most southern of Siberia's cities (only one degree of latitude north of London), we still get our fair share of cold. September and October weren't bad – an occasional snow day here and there, but for the most part the weather was surprisingly good. I spent as much time as I could at Lake Baikal (THE lake – the one that holds 20% of the world's fresh water) and other outdoor destinations. I had this image in my head of huge snowdrifts and such. That may soon happen, but not yet. I'm still debating whether these trips will be repeated in the next two months – it'll be absolutely freezing, but you only see something that beautiful once in a great while, right?

Speaking of which, I've come to a conclusion in the past few days – a realization that is difficult for a photographer like me to accept. There are some things in this country (and this world) which simply cannot be translated to a photograph. What is hardest about this fact is that so many of my favorite moments on this trip cannot be preserved other than in my memory and in an occasional blog entry. For example, I was on a night train last night from Ulan Ude (capital of the neighboring Buryati Republic) back to Irkutsk when I was suddenly and for no particular reason awoken. I looked out the window (possible at this point only because all the lights in the cabin were off) and saw something quite miraculous – a full moon gave me a wonderful view of the snow-topped mountains surrounding Lake Baikal, while in the sky, framed perfectly in my window, was the constellation Orion. It was one of those "right-place-at-the-right-time" kind of moments, and one that I will probably never experience again. But I think I will always remember lying there, as the train slowly chugged along the lakeshore, staring in wonder at all the natural beauty that was passing by my window. While my studies are interesting and I'm learning a lot about Russian language and culture, I count these moments as the ones that make my trip halfway around the globe the most worthwhile – the moments for which it is worth it to put up with the -10˚C (and lower, as I suspect the temperature will yet drop before I return to the sunny Lone Star State).

I'm not quite sure what to expect from the next month and a half. Exactly how cold is it going to get? How on Earth am I going to be able to pass all my exams (since all my classes are in Russian, including a literature class which covers Dostoevsky and Tolstoy)? And how am I going to handle things when I get back home? By now I've gotten used to hand washing all my clothes, riding the trolley or walking everywhere I need to go, and operating just about 24 hours a day in a foreign language. While I miss a lot of the conveniences of American life, I know I can get buy just fine without them.

James Fickenscher travels China. - October

This is me outside of beautiful Hemu Village. Hemu is a small, self-contained Tuvan village in NW Xinjiang.

I got back last Sunday from our two week trip all around China. We started off going to Northwest Xinjiang (where China meets Russia, Mongolia, and Kazakhstan). Talk about a mix of cultures! Haha! I never thought I would feel relieved to find a person who spoke Chinese, but everyone spoke Tuvan or Mongolian where we went. And then we worked our way back east going down the ancient Silk Road.

One of my favorite stops on our trip was Xiahe; seeing a large group of Buddhist monks all sit in an internet bar and play Counterstrike was pretty awesome. Xiahe is in northeastern Tibet, and has one of the largest Buddhist monasteries in the world. The Buddhists in Xiahe had such a faith and devotion to Buddhism; their faith was their lives. I only wish we Christians would show such devotion in our lives as I saw in these people; the world would then be a very different place indeed.

Liam and James explore China. - September

'04 McDermott Scholars James Fickenscher (left) and Liam Skoyles are studying language and culture in China this fall. Here's a posting from Beijing:

James:

Before I came to Beijing, I didn't really know all that much about Chinese culture or the Chinese way of life; all I had heard about pretty much was censorship and cheap food. Little did I know the great and wonderful culture into which I was about to be totally immersed. Since coming I have been completely taken away by the Chinese people and culture. The Chinese way of thinking is so completely different than that of Americans, and I feel that my time here will educate me both as a student and a worldly cultured person. The fact that the Eugene McDermott Scholars Program encourages this kind of experience shows its dedication to the well-rounded development of its scholars and demonstrates its desire to help motivated, great students like you become people who can truly change the world.

Liam:

As I stepped off the plane in Hong Kong, it was like stepping into a fairytale vision in my dreams. I zipped across the harbor on the lightning-fast airport express train and reflected on the previous six weeks: I had just planed, trained, taxied, and rickshawed my way across the Indian subcontinent—convenience stores, air conditioning and sit-down toilets were a distant memory. I shelled out 100 Hong Kong Dollars at the end of the line, the same price as a full week's worth of lodging in Delhi. Hong Kong was everything I missed about the West and at the same time everything I was loath to remember. Well-groomed businessmen brushed past, teens bounced along with shopping bags and the streets were sterilized. However as the memory of thousands of colourful kites flying over Delhi against a fiery sunset waned, a new appreciation of the world's newest superpower dawned. Over ten days I wound my way to Beijing. As I finally walked into the Beijing Foreign Studies University dorm, my home for the next semester, I had fallen in love with this amazing new society. Not to mention the fact that a year of Chinese language study made the taxi ride infinitely more convenient.

Both:

Everything in Beijing is awesome still, and tomorrow we leave for a two week trip around Xinjiang and even get to go hiking up to the Russian/Chinese/Mongolian/Kazakhstani border!

Caitlin Dooley writes from Costa Rica - June

Today I went with 3 friends from Canada to Playa Buena Vista, which my mama tica told me was one kilometer away. After walking for half an hour, we met a woman on the way who told us we were still about a mile away, so the estimating was a little off, but it was a great walk. On the way, we saw (and heard) a lot of howler monkeys hanging from trees (and power lines too, which was a little disturbing. It looked like an anachronism... if that's the right word for that). We saw some newborn calves and horses on the way too, one of which ran up next to Jacklyn as if to pose for a picture and as soon as the shutter closed he ran off.

We had to cross a river before we could get to the actual ocean, which by the way, was bright orange. I guess it's from the silt in the river that flows out into the ocean, but it looked extremely bizarre. We had all been told separately, by Tyrone at the school and our respective Tico parents that if the river was over our knees, we shouldn't cross because of the crocodiles. I just kind of hoped they were exaggerating or joking, but when we got to the river (which was also bright orange and you couldnt see the bottom of it), we all hesitated before we crossed it. All of a sudden some random Tico comes out from the trees and we asked him if it was dangerous to cross, but he didn't answer because he had a place for a trachea tube and couldn't talk, but he led us across the river, so we assumed it was okay.

Once on the other side, we were the only ones on the whole beach which is about 4 kilometers long except for a few people who were on the other end who camp out to volunteer with the turtles that come there to keep them safe from poachers. We ate the sandwiches we brought with us, and before we finished lunch, the tide had come in so much that we had to move way back on the beach. It was at that point that we realized that the river was rising with the tide, and so we went to ask one of the volunteers about crossing the river to get back home.

So there are 2-3 meter crocodiles, the tide is coming in, but it's not dangerous? Peculiar. Anyway, when we saw all the volunteers leaving we just followed them across, hoping that the crocs would eat them first if there were any hanging around. Don't worry - we all survived and caught a ride back to Samara. I'm really glad I stayed here this weekend -- I've had so much fun with my Tico family and friends. I'm going to miss them a lot!

Rachel Markowitz writes from Morocco - February

Rachel in front of a mosaic at the Hassan II mosque in Casablance, the 3rd largest mosque in the world.

I can't believe it's already been a week here in Rabat! There are so many things to say, I don't know where to start. Let's see, here are some of the most different things about being here:

1) The call to prayer: five times a day, every day, men all over the city (and the country, and the Islamic world, in fact) call out to summont eh faithful to remember their duty to God and to pray. They all sing out at the same time and it sounds both beautiful and strange at the same time.

2) Cold water: We have to turn on the gas if we want warm water, and then only do it for showers. And showers don't come often. Usually people don't shower at their homes, they go to the hamman, which is a communal showering place. I went with my host sister and some friends the other day, and let's just say it was an experience. Very naked and very hot. I'm sure I'll return on occasion, but for now am more please with the hose we have upstairs in a tiled room meant for the rare cleaning moments.

3) Languages: and I definitely mean the plural in this case. People here speak Arabic, but not usually Fus'ha or classical arabic, it's called Dharija. This is a dialect that is unique to Morocco and is the only language the everyone speaks. Otherwise, some know Fus'ha Arabic from school and many know French, as this is a French colony after all. My host family is fairly well educated, so they all understand French (though I don't speak it very well yet). There are also several people from farther north that speak Spanish ... so pretty much, I'm just confused all the time so far. But it works somehow!

I guess that leaves me to my family: My dad works nights as a police dispatcher and my mom stays home most of the time, as women tend to do. She doesn't wear the hijab, or veil, and it's totally normal here to either cover your head or not, it's up to you. I have a 20 year old sister, Meryam, who speaks pretty decent English because she had an American sister last semester, too. She's the only girl and is very happy to have another female to stay with her when it's not safe for us to go out. I would hate being a Moroccan woman! As an American, it's acceptable for me to go out on my own, but Meryam has to ask permission from her father or brothers, and most of the time the answer is no...unless it's during the day and she's going to school or meeting up with her best friend, Asmaa, who also speaks English.

Brothers are great, though! I have Dreess, who is 24, Omar-22, and Issam-17. They are all super nice to me, even though I can barely communicate with them in French and Dharija, and they keep reinforcing to me that they are my brothers and want to protect me. Dreess is especially great, and we are constantly laughing.

Parties: Friday night, my siblings threw a party here for me and my American friends and it was so much fun! The older boys work in electronics and have built tons of lights, etc to make the living room, or salon, look like a discotheque! Dreess DJs and the rest of us danced, and it was a load of fun. The best part was that evidently my host father doesn't want them to have parties, but my mom says it's ok, so they all wait until the dad leaves for work and then scramble to move furniture and put the equipment together. It's hilarious, really.

Then last night, my brothers took me and 3 female friends to a discotheque, which was also an experience. Male female realtions here are totally different than in the states, but I'm not at all intimidated. The streets are strange because it's actually cultural for men to stalk women in the streets and we all know people here who met their spouses in this manner. They just make sounds and try to get us to say hello mostly, but sometimes it's borderline harassment, so we've all learned to ignore most of the stalking but then also we have useful phrases up our sleeves to get the point across. I usually wear my fake engagement ring, too, which can scare many a suitor from my path.

Anyway, I digress. Classes are going fine and so far consist of beginning Dharija/Fus'ha and a seminar on Gender and Religion as well as prepartion for the big research project I'll work on in April. My teachers are wonderful and supportive and the school is incredibly beautiful. I love living and studying in the Medina, or old center, of Rabat and can't wait to be able to navigate the winding streets without being totally confused. Markets, or souqs, are everywhere, and there is just too much hitting my senses to be able to relate at this point.