Friday, December 13, 2019

The Beginning of the End Pt. 2 (In which I rant about what I miss and what I will miss)


What do I miss most about America? (This question goes beyond family and friends, because it feels like those are the most obvious answers).
·       Trader Joe’s. Bro all I really want is sweet potato gnocchi with sage and butter sauce. I think I might cry and fall on my knees upon returning to my true homeland (the free sample section at TJ’s).
·       Speaking English and feeling normal. It’ll be rather strange to be able to hear other people’s conversations and actually understand all of them. Also, I’d like to not fumble over my words and be able to eloquently say more than, “no, I don’t have a membership card for your grocery store.”
·       Manners and personal space. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to hold myself back from punching someone in the face out of pure frustration (see also: the fatal mistake of grocery shopping at noon, prime babushkas shopping hour).
·       Smiling. The other day a woman smiled at me when I was walking down the street, and my first thought was “why the f#%$ is this woman smiling at me?”. Realizing that this was my first (very aggressive thought) was rather sad.
·       Hygiene. I could talk about this one for hours but I’ll leave it at that.
·       Actual spice and flavor. Put more than a sprinkle of black pepper on a dish in Latvia and half the population will panic.
·       Recycling. This one goes out to Emma Knapp- the most passionate person about recycling that I’ve ever met.
·       Volleyball. In the last few days of class we’ve taken up the nasty habit of playing soccer and volleyball in the break room, until one of us hits the ceiling and we realize we could actually get yelled at. Even the few minutes to passing back and forth with Andrew (who is the only one who can really understand my ranting about “just volleyball things”) have made me realize how much I miss playing. I made the decision to miss my senior season in college to come here and I’m incredibly grateful, but it was a little saddening to see just how much I miss little things like peppering.
What am I going to miss about Latvia?
·       Grocery shopping every day. No joke, I probably go a grocery store at least twice a day. For anyone who knows me well, you know I have a wacky love for shopping for food (which really isn’t that shocking once you see that I just look at pictures of donuts while cycling in the gym). Also, the produce here is different, and I fear I may have to spend many many many more dollars to get anything close at Whole Foods.
·       My host family! In a place as strange and different as Latvia, it can be hard to feel at home. Thankfully, my host family took every effort to make me feel welcome and care for me over the last few months. Lada, my host mom, is iconic and has taken me under her wing. My host sister Eva hugs me on a regular basis and it’s been nice to have someone my age, especially as an only child. Jusef, our cat, remains oddly charming with his balding Crookshanks haircut (that’s a Harry Potter reference for those of you who somehow happened to miss the biggest series of our childhood). My vocabulary in Russian can’t explain how happy I was to be part of their family, even if for just a short amount of time.
·       All those weirdos from West Point. We joke a lot about each other’s schools, but there’s no denying that or experience here wouldn’t be the same without the friendships we’ve formed with Andrew, Erin and Hailey. There’s nothing that solidifies a friendship like staring at someone during a presentation and asking them to find the Russian translation for the word you’re trying to say as the professor stares at your semi-squeamish soul.
·       Candles. Lighting up these bad boys is the first thing I do when I get home. Also, fire scares the ish out of me so it’s been nice getting more comfortable lighting matches.
·       Laima chocolate. There’s a very legitimate reason as to why Latvians are so proud of this national treasure. If you’re ever trying to woo me, a bar of their dark chocolate with almonds and cherries will do the trick quite well.
·       Riga Black Balsam (only the black currant flavor). Latvia’s staple alcohol- the group nearly gagged after trying the original flavor for the first time, but this bitter is a favorite for almost everyone, and the part of me that gets carried away easily wants to bring back a whole suitcase full of it, but thankfully I have a (small) sense of self-control and I’ll import more from this great country if I ever need it.
·       Traveling to other countries easily. I’m the kind of person to plan out everything for a trip/event weeks in advance, but it’s been refreshing to take some trips as a group that we hadn’t anticipated (weekend trips to Riga, Latvia’s capital). We’ve thought through a lot on the fly and I’m an expert™ at finding boss AirBnBs, and all of that is because it’s been easy to travel. I don’t anticipate traveling to so many countries so quickly (Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia and Poland) for a long time to come.
·       Free time. Life at the Academy is usually filled to the brim with obligations, bells ringing, and cannons blasting (not really on the last one). Here we tend to go with the flow, and by flow I mean the schedule Larisa writes. Occasionally the flow consists of a hurricane of Russian and political science classes, but lately it’s been a puddle of language exam prep. We’ve taken a “rest” semester, and we’re prepared to grind when we get back.
  ·     Alyona, our Russian teacher. Alyona was freaking awesome- she would talk to us about a different life under the Soviet Union, the perspective of a Russian-speaker living in Latvia, and only scold you a little if you’d forgotten some basic Russian grammar. She also let us watch Scooby Doo in Russian when we came to school dressed as the characters (more on that in a later post). She’s everything you’d ever want in a language teacher- an academic mom with nice handwriting and a tendency to watch us get carried away with our shenanigans.

·       Being credited by Andrew’s host mom as the reason America can sleep peacefully at night because of how tall and strong-looking I am. 

·       Riga. Even though I haven’t left Latvia yet, I can’t wait to come back to this city. Most of the people who know it in America reference it as the setting of some episode of “The Bachelorette”, which makes me want to scream into a pillow (violently), but this place will have a special place in my heart. There’s nowhere I’d rather гулять.


Tuesday, December 10, 2019

You wanna go abroad, cowboy? Buckle up and listen to the wisdom I've acquired (sarcasm is implied here)


This is the part of the blog where I get ~preachy~. Whoops. But this list may actually be helpful to you if you’re looking to study abroad and wondering what the frack you’re actually getting yourself into.

·       Tips for anyone planning to study abroad:
o   You’re going to want to pack up most of your wardrobe and bring it with you. Don’t do that, you fumbling fool. What you don’t realize is that you’ll probably wear the same five outfits- so half the things you’ll bring with you will remain untouched. Pack light, pack smart. Worst case scenario, you can buy essentials wherever you’re going. If you want a comprehensive packing list (for a 4-month trip), hmu.
o   Have a clear idea of why you’re trying to go and what you’re trying to accomplish. Coming from the Academy (where everything is fast-paced and fairly stressful), the more relaxed nature of studying abroad will be nice at first. And then you’ll probably get bored and find yourself watching conspiracy theory videos until three in the morning because you can. It might be nice for a while, but it can also be incredibly frustrating. In a place without much structure, it can be super helpful to outline concrete, measurable (i.e. SMART) goals for yourself- even though no one is breathing down your neck, you can still make big steps in your own development. That can extend to everything from working out to reading or taking up a hobby you’ve wanted to try but didn’t have the time. It’s easy to get comfortable and complacent- but you’ll walk away wishing you’d used your time more efficiently.
o   Do plenty of research about where you’re going. Chances are, you’ll be spending months in a place that is drastically different from home. You’ll be overwhelmed by how new everything feels for at least a few weeks. In order to more adequately situate yourself, it’s incredibly helpful to know about the country you’ll be living in. Everything from basic greetings and phrases, customs and history will feel like a much-needed foundation. Plus you’ll minimize accidentally offending someone or looking like a complete and utter idiot. Which are, in my opinion, major pluses.

A view of my neighborhood in Daugavpils,
arguably unlike anywhere in the United States

o  
Take time for yourself. There’s going to be a lot going on around you- new people to meet, a new language to try and learn, a new city to navigate. When those things catch up to you and you feel out of place, you might start to freak out, which is perfectly normal. That’s where self-care comes in. Check in on yourself, because I can practically guarantee you won’t be making the most of your potential experiences if you’re not taking care of yourself mentally and physically.
Enjoy this joyful picture of me
wearing a helmet.

o   Know what you’re eating. This may be one of the most controversial points on the list. One of the most exciting parts of coming to a new part of the world and experiencing the culture is all the amazing food you get to eat. You might have a host family that feeds you food you’ve never seen in your life, and all of this will be new and awesome and (hopefully), very tasty. However, I will warn you that a nonchalant attitude towards food, in combination with probably working out less, can have some unintended consequences. Yes, you can enjoy the culture of the place you’re in, but (for lots of us), you don’t need to try two new cheesecake flavors a day. Most everyone on my trip has gained weight, which is not a big deal for some people, but it important if you might have long-term physical goals in that realm.
o   Reach out to the people who are important in your life, but balance that with staying in the moment. I had a problem earlier this semester where I was reaching out to a heck of a lot of people and trying to find out how school was going- until one of them nicely told me to stop worrying and be focused on where I was. There’s a reason you’ve gone away from your school, and it’s alright to focus primarily on what’s going on in your day-to-day life. Yes, always reach out to people you love and support, but don’t be afraid to create distance to reflect on what your experiences are showing you (outside of your conventional social sphere).
o   Track how much you’re spending! And find smart ways to save money! Lorde, this one is massive. Some of the places you might be going are expensive. And you might be getting a stipend or relying on your paycheck, but there are some costs that’ll impact your day-to-day that many of us probably haven’t had to think about before (sorry, this next bit gets a bit more Academy-specific). You’ll have to consider things like additional food costs, maybe a gym membership and travel costs if you’re planning to go outside whatever city you’re staying in. Those items stack up, and it can be dangerous to swipe your card like there’s no care in the world. If you want to save money, find alternatives for day-to-day necessities. That might mean cooking your lunches with a weekly set of groceries or having the self-control not to but that fourth scarf (or box of cookies) you were eyeing. If you have a stipend, chances are you’ll have more money in your pocket than you’ve ever had before, but there’s no reason not to make smart choices and have that money for other things later on.
o   Find facilities that are important to you-like a gym. One of the things that has helped me the most has been forming a routine, and working out is one critical component. Whether you lift, swim, run or haze yourself on the elliptical, knowing you have a place to go can be a motivator, and it can also keep you accountable.
That one time we got a bunch of people to play volleyball
on what was most likely private property. Twas fine. 

o   Find out when you’re going to have extended amounts of free time-and use it to your advantage. As part of our program, we had the opportunity to travel outside Latvia and visit Poland, Lithuania and Estonia. Those trips wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t proactive about finding free time in our schedule and talking to our program about traveling. This may, of course, be specific to my program, but can still be helpful. If you have the chance to travel to other places/countries, TAKE IT. Seriously, I will scream about it until I’m blue in the face. Many of us won’t be returning to the part of the world in which we’re studying, so use your time wisely. I cringe as I write this (mostly because I’ll sound like that spoiled, nauseatingly annoying girl who went abroad) when I say that traveling can change your perspective. Don’t be afraid to step outside your comfort zone and check out more in the part of the world you’re living in.
Vilnius, Lithuania- one of the
cities we had the chance to visit
o   Journal if that’s something you’re into. Times flies- I swear it was the middle of October like yesterday. To keep track of your reflections, observations, doubts, confusions, lessons learned, etc. journaling can be incredibly helpful. It helps you focus on what’s most important in your daily interactions, and can help you find important (see also: funny) stories to bring back with you.
o   Talk to people who have been where you’re going. You can do research online, but it’s also incredibly insightful to talk to someone who’s lived there before. Plus, if they’re Americans, they can give you information that will prepare you for some of the elements of cultural shock you’ll be experiencing. Talking with someone can help you find some of their lessons learned and recommendations without having to undergo the same experiences (i.e. make the same mistakes) that they did.
o   Know the regional customs so that you can respectfully interact with your host family (if you have one). Really this goes for just about anyone you’ll be interacting with, from your teachers to the cashier at the grocery store. Nothing is more awkward than making a fool of yourself or hurting someone’s feelings when you were unaware of the implications of your actions. If you want to not be an asshole, read up on how to be respectful of people of different ages, sexes, ranks (military academies, y’all know), and so on. It’ll save you more than a few internal debates and struggles.
o   Have a proper way to communicate. Whether it’s a regional SIM card or an international plan, make sure you have a way to reach people and be reached. Do some research on what you’ll need to buy or change based on what you need (like if you’re alright relying on Wi-Fi for most of your communications). People who have stayed wherever you’re going can probably give the best advice on what worked for them.
Totally random picture of
Mindaugus (my favorite) and I

o   Make some local friends. As much as you can explore by yourself, you’ll enrich your experience when you have people who know the city where you’re living. Whether it’s finding that hole-in-the-wall restaurant you never knew you needed in your life (Café Imbir, may she rest in peace), or knowing where the locals hangout, the inside scoop can be some prime knowledge. It can also make your new place of residence feel more like a home and less like an out-of-control semester-long experiment.
o   Prepare to be frustrated and homesick. Chances are, if you’re trying to study abroad it’s because you want to step out of your comfort zone. There are a lot of powerful lessons to be learned from throwing yourself into something new, but there are a few repercussions you’re unlikely to dodge. You’ll probably feel enamored with such a new place at first, but some of the frictions and frustrations you’ll feel manifest in that type of panic that makes you seek out what you know (America!). Those emotions are normal, and in a lot of cases, will pass relatively quickly. It’s helpful to remember that if you are studying abroad, you’ve been gifted this massive opportunity, and using it to its full potential will bring a sense of content that is worth some of those ickier feelings.
o   Know that you’re representing Americans (I know it’s cheesy but it’s true). Some of the people you’ll be interacting with have never met an American before, and most of what they’ll base their expectations on comes from media (TV shows, the news, etc.). There are some stereotypes about Americans out there that are less than awesome, and if you care about the image of the United States, be cognizant of your actions and their consequences. You might be thinking that there are moments in which people aren’t watching you, but you’d be surprised by how often that actually isn’t the case.  
o   Invest time in building relationships with the people with you. I’ve made some incredible friends in the last few months, even with *gasp* West Point cadets. The group that you’re with (assuming you’re not alone) can be a source of community and comfort in a new and probably strange place. They can provide insight into everything from their institutions back home, to the oddest of interactions they’ve had with their host families (like the horrific account of one of the students being forced to drink microwaved beer when he was sick. Gross on so many levels.). When you say goodbye to whatever place you’re calling home, in many cases you’ll also be saying goodbye to the people who made it special, so cherish the time you have with them. Ewww gross, feelings.

            Thank you for attending my TED Talk (rant, it’s a rant), and if you have questions or more advice, feel free to write to me. Also, if anyone out there has studied abroad before and has some more tips, leave them in the comments below. Thanks, darlins.

                                                                                                                                    Love,
                                                                                                                                      Roz

Saturday, December 7, 2019

The Beginning of the End Pt. 1


I know, I know, I know. I’m terrible and haven’t written in forever. You can complain all you want or you can like, oh, I don’t know, read the bullet points. This post covers some of our more recent escapades, I’ll put one up in the next few days about October and November shenanigans. BLUF (ugh, I’m cringing sorry): all is well, a few funny things have happened, and we’re pretty much all ready to come back home.

·       November actually had sunlight! I know a heck of a lot of you won’t care, but it’s a big freaking deal. In case you’d forgotten, last year’s November had 37 minutes(!) o sunshine. We’d been expecting an endless downpour and the world’s most diverse set of depressing greys, but on occasion we saw colors that are actually on the color wheel. Mind: blown.
·       The Navy crew has visited a local high school to help give the students practice talking to native English speakers in their English classes. This exchange has basically dissolved into us talking to the same four people who aren’t afraid of us or quizzing the students on random American facts. This is all fun and dandy until you open the floor to questions and have to tackle explaining police brutality to a bunch of Latvian teenagers. There’s been a pretty big tendency to ask questions that we consider fairly controversial, and half the time we wonder whether if it’s the students trying to corner us into equally controversial answers. But what’s really interesting is seeing what foreign young adults/ teenagers know about America and what they want to know from Americans. There’s also this custom that I can’t quite grasp- only male students approach to say good-bye and thanks, and only reach for a male midshipmen’s hands to shake. This led to a very awkward exchange in which I also reached out my hand to one of the students and he seemed rather taken aback and unsure of what to do- I feel like it’s fairly customary to shake both sex’s hands in the United States but clearly the custom doesn’t carry over. And as much as I can dismiss it as a cultural difference, I would be lying if I said that the interaction didn’t irk me.   
·       One of the unexpectedly cool experiences we’ve had here was judging a children’s Christmas-themed poetry recitation competition. The school we help at has an annual Jingle Bell festival that will give you a cuteness overdose. For context, the winner of the competition was a seven-year-old boy named Deniss who recited a poem about his love of dancing (this year’s theme-hobbies), and his “Cha-Cha” was accompanied by some smooth jams and an equally small partner who performed the cha-cha flawlessly. Y’all, I am not exaggerating. This kid was freaking wild. I had a few tears in my eyes just because he was like a tiny Misha. Fearless.
·       This competition began with a video of Santa’s hobbies- with some different kids from Daugavpils dressed as Santa doing their favorite things. At one point “Santa” was dancing and doing magic tricks, and this grand escapade was all set to Katy Perry’s “Swish Swish”, which was a, um, interesting directing choice. Made for some stellar entertainment, though.
·       At one point a group of 6th grade girls came out in the intermission and performed a rendition of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” (arguably the most iconic Christmas song of all time). At first I was skeptical of how good this performance could possibly be, but I also figured that this would be one of those moments where someone shocks you with an absurd amount of talent. That is not what happened. This performance was iconic in the sense that I wasn’t able to look away from uncoordinated choreography, butchered vocals and vaguely matching Christmas sweaters. I should say that I greatly admired the courage these girls had to go all in and sing a hit that isn’t in their native tongue. There are moments in which I wish I could have the same attitude as sixth-grade me. Granted, sixth-grade me had just been introduced to wearing sports goggles while playing volleyball so I was in an interesting point in my life in general, but (regardless), I think there are a lot of moments of courage we don’t understand when we’re young. I’m sure half of you would be paralyzed at the thought of standing up in front of a group of strangers with your friends and swaying to the hymn of Christmas’s biggest diva. So although the performance was far from professional, it was still freaking remarkable.
·       For those of you who were curious on the Misha “Captain Obvious” situation (which I detailed in one of my previous posts), Misha is currently a Youngster. Also, whenever Misha acts out of character or is generally more aggressive, we call him Mike. Because Misha is the kind of guy who will weave you a flower crown and make sure you know you look stunning, but Mike will roast you out of nowhere.
·       I turned 22 a few weeks ago, and my host mom got me the greatest gift I could’ve possibly imagined. I came home to a chocolate bar and a jar of peanut butter (I mean it was creamy and I’m Team Crunchy, but it was dank nonetheless) and I was incredibly grateful because my current jar of peanut butter at that moment was only half-full. She said that every American student she’s ever hosted loves peanut butter, and she has no idea that I’ve been buying it for myself this entire semester. I thought I would have to cut off my dependence on it in Eastern Europe, but some things just won’t change.
·       Around Halloween we traveled up to Estonia. For the geographically-challenged people out there, Latvia is sandwiched between Estonia to the North and Lithuania to the South. Daugavpils, where we study, is nearly halfway between Riga (Latvia’s capital and the largest city in the Baltic States) and Vilnius (the capital of Lithuania). It’s hard to articulate how different Latvia and Estonia are- even though it was only a four hour bus ride to Tallinn, the city feels Scandinavian rather than like its southern neighbors. I damn near cried when I saw oat milk again. Wow, if that’s not the most classic privileged American sentence I’ve ever written, I don’t know what is. Estonia is known as a center of technological progress and it shows- it felt like stepping into the future and returning to Latvia felt like a blast to the past. Also, I lost my phone in a mix-up that ended up in a nasty conversation with my Uber driver in which he thought I basically implied that all Estonians are liars and thieves. Erki, if you’ve somehow found your way onto this page I am so so sorry and I swear that is not what I meant. I love your country and your people were very welcoming to us. So that was an unexpected and massive cost that I had to account for. Whoops.
·       My speaking partner from the local university shared the two critical criteria that the Latvians use to identify Americans in Daugavpils. Apparently we have large backpacks (can’t deny that- I stuff my gym clothes in there every day along with half of my worldly possessions). But more interestingly, we also carry massive water bottles. Although carrying a large water bottle is commonplace at the Academy, the concept doesn’t really transition here. I can probably count the number of times I’ve seen a local drink water on one hand. It’s a little distressing. And I feel like a freak for trying to feel at least relatively hydrated.
·       Our trip to Estonia was also the birthplace of one of the most important and iconic parts of this trip- the emergence of Team Wholesome™. The group here has generally divided itself in two- the party-goers and the stay-at-homers who like to bake cookies, put on foaming face masks and cook absurd amounts of food. With regards to foaming face masks, I highly recommend but also give the warning that they will grow on your face and potentially make you laugh uncontrollably to the point that your friends are concerned for your sanity. Most definitely not speaking from personal experiences (*nervous laughter intensifies*). Also I have a tendency to cackle which has only made its appearance a few times during this trip, thankfully.
·       I’m coming to the realization that I’m a bit of a homebody and Team Wholesome (who is responsible for absurd amounts of baked goods) is where I belong without a doubt. The West Point cadets and Mindy and I are some of its core members, and I have to say- we house good vibes only. If you’d like to apply we’re looking for spirited members who will tolerate the amount of cheese products Andrew (one of the cadets) buys. Send inquiries directly to me.
·       There’s something really sad about knowing that a lot of the inside jokes we have here will die in about four weeks. Most of them revolve around not quite understanding Russian (even if we kind of do), and of course the jokes won’t be funny when we get back because no one is expected to know the language. Also people don’t understand babushka culture so that’s gonna be fun to explain.
·       As our time in Eastern Europe slowly comes to a close, it’s hard to believe that the next few times I see things will be the last time I see them for a long time (or forever). We’re all so ready to go home that it would be easy to dismiss the next two weeks and think about the first things I want to do when I get back, but I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t be overcome by pessimism in the homestretch. I don’t know if I’ll be back in this part of the world in the next decade- or in the next fifty years. There’s an odd sense of not really knowing what I’m not going to see again-and what I haven’t seen at all. Even while walking today in Riga, there are countless streets and parks I’ve only ever seen once or twice. I’m excited to be home and grateful for every moment I’ve had here (even if I’m packed on a tram in a way that even sardines would quiver), but there’s no denying this chapter is coming to a close soon.

                                                                                                                Love, 

                                                                                                                   Roz

P.S. There's plenty more to cover- I swear I'm going to be updating in the next day or two. Or maybe three. Probably three. 


Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Weekly Reflections September- Early October


Here are the more serious musing I've had over the course of the last month.

Week of September 16, 2019
        We had the chance to go on the most thought-provoking excursion we've had so far. Yesterday we visited some of the memorials for those lost in World War II, including Jewish people, Soviet soldiers and even German soldiers. We also visited some of the cemeteries around the city, for both soldiers and civilians. The visits sparked a lot of interesting discussions, especially because we've had the chance to study ethics and we are knowingly entering a profession that requires us to think deeply about why we fight, who and what we strive to protect, and what lines we choose to draw when it comes to our decisions as warfighters.
      As a city of under 100,000 people, it's mind-boggling to hear that 165,000 people died here during World War II. The second memorial we went to honored those who died in the woods outside the city when they were left to die without food or shelter. Although the woods are lush and beautiful today, 100,000 people froze to death there. The grass must have been completely eaten or frozen, and people ate as much of the tree bark as they could reach. Perhaps most disturbingly, the estimate of deaths is the result of weighing the ash left behind by the Nazi forces as they tried to hide the extent of their crimes when Soviet forces were advancing. While looking back as I walked away from the monument and thought about the horrors under the beauty of the forest, I couldn’t help but think of Stalin. I credit myself having with having a vivid imagination and for a moment I could almost picture his figure standing on the steps near the obelisk that honors those lost. I have trouble understanding how a person can be capable of such evil. We heard a lot about the systemic killing of people and I know that many of the individuals who were making higher-level decisions were removed from the actual scenes of the crime (at least physically or geographically) but they were still responsible for creating plans to kill millions. Humans are capable of a great deal of cruelty, and there has been true evil in this world. That is terrifying and fascinating.
      We were also told that although the monuments across the city are incredibly important, a large portion of the younger generation doesn’t know very much about the history or the memorials. This was very surprising because, as I have noted earlier, this place is soaked in history. For a country that has been so affected by events like World War II, I would expect that an understanding of that history persists, but maybe this new world is one that watches part of that legacy fade. I also believe that if people are uneducated about history, history is bound to repeat itself. I am not implying that something as atrocious as the war crimes of World War II will happen again, but I think it is important to understand the horrors of the past in order to recognize warning signs in the present.
      One of the most striking things that Janis, our tour guide, mentioned to us was that for many people conditions under the Nazi and Soviet occupations were comparable in their brutality. Some Latvians greeted Nazi tanks with flowers when they entered Daugavpils because they saw German forces are liberators (and may or may not have followed the extent of their ideology). The memorial for Soviet soldiers lost during World War II is only a five minute walk from the memorial for German soldiers who fought in the war. It should be mentioned that the SS officers were not recognized and ought to be forgotten, but many of the German soldiers were Latvians conscripted into the German Army. Many families had sons who were soldiers in different forces, some were forced to fight for the Germans while another might be forced to fight for the Soviet forces. Disturbingly, Stalin would often knowingly send Latvian forces, or recruits, to fight against other Latvians on the German side, so there were times that people who knew each other or grew up with one another were forced to fight to the death. It's incredibly difficult for me to understand that the might of the Soviet system rests upon such an unethical foundation, but somehow people were able to separate the Soviet system from its early leadership. Some people in Latvia legitimately miss the Soviet Union's system.
*This interesting experience also included an excerpt on getting slapped on the way home, but that’s something I’d rather not have on the internet, so talk to me in person about it in case you want to know what happened. Again, I’m perfectly fine and all is well. 
Week of September 23, 2019
       My primary interesting experience this week has to do with religion, so I apologize in advance if I step on anyone's toes. This Saturday we traveled to the Aglona Basilica, one of the most famous Catholic churches in Eastern Europe. Students of years past have called it more of a palace than a church, and that sentiment truly fits when you walk through its ornate and elaborate interior. The Basilica is the center of a mass migration for Catholics every year on August 15th. Up to 120,000 people gather on the lawn for the services on that day, and they travel on foot for days to weeks beforehand as part of the journey.
        The inside of the Basilica stretches like a cavern, and every intricate detail has been hand-painted. The columns only look to be marble, and you can see on close inspection that they're actually only painted to look that way. From far away, the decadence is mind-boggling. Up close, you can see that there was a great deal of ingenuity used when restoring the church for Pope John Paul II's visit there in 1993.
     Janis walked us through the history of the building, and he mentioned two things that were particularly noteworthy to me. The first was that for decades upon decades before the World Wars, many noble or wealthy figures were buried in the tombs beneath the main cathedral, but looters broke into the tombs and stole many of the valuables, like the jewelry the deceased were wearing. Efforts were also made to hide or save art from the church during World War II. I took a step back and thought about how heart-breaking it must have been to be an art historian (or even an art enthusiast) during this time. I think there is something sacred in the way that art can explain the anguish, experience and history of a culture in a way that words sometimes fail. To have people actively steal or destroy this art gives me the sense that they were working to destroy that culture, and trying to burn things down with the hope of crafting a new, false future. I remember one of the first actions Hitler took as he gained power in Germany was increasingly censoring the media in order to create a narrative in his image, and I think a similar line of thinking would have been used to justify the theft or destruction of art during this time.
 Secondly, Janis told us that during the Cold War, the Soviet Union burned a mass collection of ancient religious texts collected by the church (they had been taken and burned to power the local train station). The only ones that remained had been hidden in one of the bell towers and were rediscovered during the church's restoration after the fall of the Soviet Union. It's terrifying to think that there (once again) was a thought-out plan to demolish key artifacts that gave an insight into the region's history. It seems as though the Soviet Union was literally trying to create a nation in their image, and would willingly distort history by destroying the artifacts that would've been used to piece it together. I can't understand that. I think we're raised as Americans to value difference in opinion and acceptance, but book burning is an egregious and malevolent act. Spreading disinformation by destroying evidence of the past makes my blood boil. Alas, the church is fully intact and still a great center for the community of believers.
  I grew up as something of an altar girl. I went to Sunday school for years on end and helped in services. Throughout all that time, however, I don't think I ever found that same sense of calm or belonging that draws people to religion, especially Catholicism. I always kind of wondered why I was there, and I don't think I was educated enough in the scripture to really understand what I was being told to accept. When I stood in front of one of the altars in the basilica in Aglona, I felt that same distance course through me again. In churches, I almost always feel as though I am at odds with something, like there is a part of me that will forever be an outsider to this sense of community.
There are a lot of reasons my religion has ceased to be a part of my identity, and it has been a bit strange to go to these amazing religious sites but not be able to appreciate their grandeur fully. I don't think religion will play a role in my life anytime soon, but in moments like that, I wish it did. I've seen myself as an outsider for most of my life (being a precocious kid will often do that to you, and I'm sorry if it seems as though I'm bragging, I can assure you that I am not). I've always wanted to be part of something bigger than myself, because for a while it felt like I was sort of drifting on my own, and often by my own choice. I think that for a lot of people religion is one of those things that binds them to a sense of belonging, but I've never been able to feel that way myself, and sometimes it saddens me. On the other hand, the people at the Academy and my own efforts to grow mentally and emotionally have helped me fill that gap. It is still odd to think I could've been in the house of an all-powerful being, but might be too closed-minded or lost to give him the recognition he may very well warrant in my everyday life. Or maybe my forever-questioning instinct is right, and all we will ever have is our short time on this dying planet.
My apologies for being morbid, I can assure you I am actually doing quite fine.

Week of September 30, 2019
       I've written about babushkas, but I can assure every reader that they are truly inescapable here and my conclusions this week differ a bit from what I wrote last.
       In a world that teaches women to value youth and beauty so much, and often makes one identity seem incomplete without the other, it feels quite odd to constantly see reminders of aging. As a woman of eastern European descent, I can't help but feel that every time I look at a babushka, I'm getting a look into my own future. I find it difficult to imagine what it must be like as a woman who grows up in a culture that is so closely centered upon and aware of aging, especially as a woman. My perception may of course be skewed by the fact that I only really grew up with my central family, so I didn't receive very much exposure to the lives and experiences of older people. In Daugavpils, reminders of life as an elderly woman are inescapable. I have had many moments during which I can see my mother or father in the faces of the people on these streets.
      I've come to a turning point, of sorts. I knew my experiences in this country would be reminiscent of the time I'd spent in Poland with my family, but it seems like the way I see this place is starting to change. There are moments during which I truly feel like I've been caught in some alternate universe in which my parents never left Poland and I'm just another twenty-something year old woman roaming these streets. I look like the women here, and I can see the physical similarities between the people here and my family. I could fit right in, at least on the outside. But on the inside, there have been moments during which I've never felt so different. Many of the young women here, such as my speaking partner, have told me they want to travel or live in America. They have big ideas of what America is like, but I know what the American experience actually is. I do find it strange that if a few decisions had been made differently by my parents and the people who influenced them, I would be hoping to do the exact same thing. I'd probably spend most of my young adulthood thinking about going abroad. My speaking partner went so far as to say that you're not considered a real Latvian unless you've worked in England, because all the young people are leaving to look for jobs elsewhere.
      Being here can sometimes feel like glancing into a lopsided destiny; this is a reflection of who I could've been, and I can see how different I actually from that vision. I think that's been incredibly impactful for me.
      This trip has also made me acutely aware of the privileges I've been granted as an American. I will confess that for many years as a first generation American, I feared that for many people American patriotism bled into nationalism. I think a lot of my anxiety in this arena came from the idea that I've always been both an American and a woman of Polish descent, and buying into one identity too much might felt like it might come at the expense of losing parts of the other. When I grew up, I was always caught in this paradox: I've never fully lived in Poland, my knowledge of the history of the country is minimal at best and I get a massive lump in my throat whenever I have to talk to a stranger in Polish, but I'm not completely an American, either. My upbringing has been fundamentally different from many of my peers. I mean, I just started listening to Elton John this year. If that doesn't give you a glimpse into the lack of American culture I was exposed to (I am well aware that he is British), then I'm not quite sure what will. But these past few weeks have shown me that I'm more of an American than I would've ever expected. Especially after thinking so deeply about the history of the war memorials near Daugavpils, I've never been this excited to have the chance to serve my country. And I think a lot of that is because I see America as my country, regardless of my confusion regarding my identity in the past.
Week of October 7, 2019

This week has given me a particular insight into the strength and capability of the human will. The two primary experiences that exposed me to reflecting on this were learning about the push for scientific revolution during World War II (and the development of nuclear weapons) and visiting the KGB Museum in Vilnius, Lithuania. One of the biggest lessons I’ve seen in these contexts is that the human mind is capable of great innovation when situations dictate a need for it, but those evolutions can be twisted by hateful, destructive or distrustful doctrine. 
     Our political science class this week focused on the documentary “The Bomb”, produced by the BBC in 2017. One of the earliest themes that emerged was the idea of mass scientific revolution in America as a response to fears of Nazi forces acquiring nuclear weapons. The Manhattan Project became the largest government science project and it was birthed from fear. After the discovery of nuclear fission in Germany, the very idea that the Nazis might be able to weaponize such a powerful force made development of nuclear weapons practically inevitable. Contributions from individual scientists who foresaw these risks while the rest of the world had no idea of their existence changed the very fabric of humanity. That might seem like an obvious statement, but I think it warrants a great deal of thought and reflection, especially by people from my generation. I think we fail to acknowledge that everything from diplomacy, to war, to culture and the average citizen’s thinking adapted to somehow come to terms with the idea that total and complete destruction of the world could always be a day away. The collective scientific strides of a few people brought on some of the most advanced technology the world has ever known, and a much different group was responsible for its use (and the restraint of said use) on a global scale. 
     The visit to the KGB Museum in Vilnius offers a graver perspective into this idea of the strength of human will and its corruption. The museum is located in the KGB’s secret prison during the time of the Soviet Union (which was also used by the Nazis during their occupation of Lithuania during World War II), and thousands of people were questioned, tortured and imprisoned there. Just over a thousand people were taken to a separate section of the prison and murdered. To say that the place has a haunted, and haunting history, would be a massive understatement. 
     I had great difficulty understanding how people could be so cruel to one another while maintaining this mechanical sense of what they were doing. For example, when one of the prisoners was brought into the specially designated killing room, one guard would push or distract the prisoner while the other executed him; this distraction was used to minimize the likelihood that the prisoner would fight back. Additionally, the blood from the room was cleaned before the new victim entered to both minimize resistance and diminish any signs of what was to come. For some of the prisoners who died here even a small sign of imminent death could have acted as a sign that their suffering was coming to a close. Instead, there were specific measures to disorient the prisoner throughout the end of his or her life. Additionally, the KGB were specifically instructed to keep prisoners alive for as long as possible. When tortured, people were brought to the brink of death but if interrogators believed they could retrieve more information, they perpetuated this extremely sense of isolation and powerlessness in extreme prison conditions. 
     I write about these details because, as I have noted in some of my previous reflections, it can be easy to dismiss these actions as those of a corrupted few, but it is important to remember that these were real people making these decisions. As noted in the Zimbardo Prison Experiment, the combination of isolation and authority can lead to unforeseen brutality, but I also find it interesting that these guards had to have been convinced that preserving the Soviet Union and its domineering role in Lithuania was so imperative that fundamental moral boundaries should and could be crossed. Someone had to convince the guards and officers that their mission was right and just, and I’m not quite sure how or when such an indoctrination can even begin. One of the most moving exhibits in the museum was a wall showing pictures of the bodies of victims of the KGB during Lithuania’s first years of resistance and call for independence; these bodies had deliberately been placed in public areas like streets or city centers so that the KGB could monitor people’s reactions (to know who to keep tabs on) and allow fear to quite literally spread like a disease. Nearly half of the dissenters seeking independence during the time the exhibit showcased were young adults. The new generation after these killings grew up in a world where such violence dictated everything because it showed who truly held power in the county. 
     There is a Polish proverb that goes something like “a German will tell you he will shoot you, but a Russian will shoot you behind your back and lie about it”, I apologize if that may not be the exact wording or translation but the sentiment stands nonetheless. I have internally acknowledged that I come from a biased perspective in studying Russian culture and language. My parents and family have had with experiences during the Soviet Union’s era, and for that reason have cautioned me in regards to trusting Russian people. As much as I have tried to combat and address this bias, I find it immensely difficult not to get caught in evidence of the evil acts of some of these Russian groups. Needless to say, these actions do not represent each individual Russian person, but they still acted as the extension of the Soviet state into states like Lithuania. I have trouble understanding how this level of brutality and desire to seek control can permeate so deeply that even the actions we think of as unthinkable, were committed without regard to individual, moral consequence. Vladimir Putin’s past involvement with the KGB extends this anxiety and has made me think a lot about when or whether this culture can be completely eradicated within Russian politics. 
      I will admit that I cried during my visit to the museum. One of the exhibits showcased the waves of resistance to Soviet influence and presence in Lithuania from World War II to the fall of the Soviet Union, and rallying against the state was one of the principal offenses that citizens could be targeted for. This manhunt must have left the population with an epidemic of paranoia; people recognized they were living in a system that limited their rights and watched what they said, but acting outside the unwritten guidelines prescribed by authorities would mean automatically making oneself a target for the KGB. Worse yet, one would be making their entire family or friends a target for torture, interrogation, or receipt of threats. 
      While this in its entirety is moving, what truly made me emotional was the idea that I think that most Americans take the freedom that is so inherent in our system for granted. I have grown tired of failing to recognize my privileges as an American. It feels like much of the Soviet Union’s legacy involved instilling that fear in authority, and that is something that Americans don’t ever have to think. The idea of an intelligence agency stalking individuals believed to be opponents to the state and punishing them in order to instill fear and obedience on a wide scale is horrifying, and as much as I’d like to talk to my friends about what I’ve seen, I’m not sure how receptive many of them would be. I think that part of that stems from the idea that the impact of this system really starts to settle when you see its effects in person (i.e. when the history in textbooks stares you blatantly in the face), but I also think that a lot of people I know would rather focus on pettier problems rather than take the time to contemplate these histories.

      In my opinion we’ve been socialized to focus on the short-term, to think of ourselves first and foremost, and few of us actively take the initiative to reflect when they aren’t mandated to. It can be easier to think this way, to be focused on every small detail that frustrates or inconveniences us, to become cynical in the face of routine or relative isolation, but I have personally found it endlessly more enriching to start considering these hard questions. To be completely honest, it would be fairly impossible to spend a semester here without being unsettled by the bloody, scarred history that has bound this region, and I am sadly thankful for it. Most people I know wouldn’t be able to place Latvia on a map, but I know this place has taught me things that no textbook could. 

Thanks for reading, and if there's anything you saw that you want to chat about, you know how and where to find me. Hope all is well, wherever you are.