Anticipating Transitions

One of the most beautiful things about the world we inhabit is that nothing is permanent.  Though it sometimes takes an extraordinarily long time, everything we see is in a constant state of change, of transformation.  Some changes are longed for, others are dreaded with hopeless avoidance, and still others occur without anyone noticing at all. We are bound to an unstoppable cycle of growth to decay, rise to fall, new to old.  One of the most pronounced of these changes is the seasonal pattern.  Just last week, after what had been a long, dark, and cold winter, I was laying alongside the winding river, sprawled out on raised embankment looking across the river to the Altstadt with its steeples and belfries reaching towards the base of the fortress dominating the city with the towering Alps off in the distance.  As I basked in warm sunlight, rereading my favorite book, F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise, drinking a grapefruit Radler from the local brewery, donning my sunglasses and polo shirt, feeling the warm breeze pass through my hair, birds in the tree above whistled to one another, while gulls played in the rapidly flowing river below me.  A puppy was splashing in the shallow bank, people either running or cycling, walking or taking a moment's respite from the workday to absorb the sun's energy.  It felt like we were on the brink of a new start, a fresh spring and all that that promises, from rich blue skies and long days, to the fresh fragrance of flowers and a green so deep in hue, that it makes one consider if he's ever truly seen the color before.  Spring would be a welcome change, but it was not yet to be.  Down to freezing temperatures and a snow blanketed city today, and not a warm day in sight.  

Some transitions are monumental in the eyes of the world, though, and are cemented in history.  Yesterday was one of those transitions.  In the world's smallest country, the successor to a 2,000 year old institution, the caretaker of 1.2 billion souls, the Roman Pontiff was elected.  I watched the event as it unraveled through the BBC, and at first, I wondered what it must have been like to have been there in Bernini's masterful Square, celebrating the announcement, but then I heard it.   I flung open my windows and in flowed the powerful sound of every Church in Salzburg ringing its bells it unified joy at the return to the throne.  The peeling bells sounded for an hour, notifying everyone of the momentous news.  That moment, of opening my windows to the sound of bells, made me realize just how significant an event that really was.  Churches all over the world let their bells loose.  Every news station had its cameras pointed at that famous chimney above the Sistine Chapel, as they did when the new Pope addressed the world for the first time from that imposing loggia on St. Peter's massive façade.  Catholic or not, it was one of the few events to have brought the entire world together in awareness, marking the transition of the most covered person in the world, from old to new.

This week has been one of anticipation and transition.  At school, teachers and students alike have become restless at the thought of sitting in classrooms for hours a day.  I, myself, have felt the initial spark fade, and now it seems as if one long, monotonous obligation.  Everyone seems to be ready for spring to come, for a change of climate and atmosphere, for a change of routine and possibility.  

At the last minute, my brother let us know that he had been granted 15 days of leave from active duty in Afghanistan to visit me here in Europe.  He will have made a transition, too.  It's been nearly a year since we have since each other last, and it has been months since he has seen the United States, instead seeing the plainness of desert in a tired war zone.  After days of travelling, he should arrive tomorrow.  We've both changed, of that I am sure.  We've both been living our lives in different spheres, trying to make the best of our lives the way we know how.  We've experienced very different worlds, and I am interested to see how his view of the world has been altered since his latest stage of the game.  I cannot begin to imagine what it'll be like for him, coming from the cesspool of the Earth to what I consider paradise, fully knowing that it will only last the two weeks before having to return to that place from which he recently departed.  

But then again, that is the game of life we play, into that eternal rotation of experiences, of changes.  For better or for worse, they are what they are, and we must accept them as they come.  They're what make life special, the changes.  If everything stayed constant, if everything were perfect, to what value on life could we ascribe?  Without the transitions, without the imperfections, we would never, could never, understand the beauty, the good, the wonderful in our lives.  Life is full of changes.  Anticipate them.  Embrace them.  Remember them.  I'm ready with open arms.  

The Heart of Europe

Over the course of the past week I was privileged to participate in a seminar with a cohort of Fulbright fellows from across Europe.  Our topic: the EU and NATO.  The adventure began with a too-early train ride to the airport in Munich, boarding on time, experiencing electrical failure, having to switch planes, having to sit in plane for 2 hours while snow was removed, arriving late at my destination, consequently missing the group bus, having to buy a ticket to the most random country ever, and then, upon arrival, realizing my phone's internet wasn't working, which meant that not only was I in a strange city, but I also didn't know where my hotel was or what is was called.  Wonderful.  Thank God I had looked on Google Maps a few weeks ago, because I remembered Avenue John F. Kennedy, and, after 3 hours of seemingly senseless wandering, I was taking my shoes off in my beautiful hotel room overlooking the illuminated city below.  It was an ordeal, and I missed a reception at the ambassador's residence, but on the bright side, unlike everyone else, I got to explore the old city, which was incredible!  Luxembourg sits on a series of three hills, with wide valleys separating each fortified hilltop, with impressive Romanesque viaducts crossing the open space, connecting each part of the city to another.  My favorite part of Luxembourg was dinner.  Everyone else was snacking on tartines, I walked down a side street near the palace and stumbled upon a hole in the wall place, Bistrot de la Presse.  I walked inside and was instantly greeted by the waitress at the door.  A few older men were in quiet conversation, sipping their beer at the bar and a couple were in the corner sharing a bottle of wine.  I picked a window table and ordered the day's dinner (which I had no idea what it was), paired with the local brew, a spicy lager.  The bistro was about the size of my garage, and the walls were decorated with pictures of the royal family, both new and old, which gave the place an authentic charm.  My meal came out, Chicons aux gratin, which I just discovered is an endive particular to that area called Witloof, a slightly bitter cabbage-like vegetable.  It was covered in a creamy cheese and placed under the broiler to brown.  It was served with bits of fresh ham and boiled potatoes with parsley.  To. Die. For.  The 80-something year old lady who made my dinner delivered it and sat at the table next to me to make sure I liked it - no worries, I did!  I devoured it, and seriously, it was one of the best meals I've ever had.  I was reluctant to leave, but as I did, everyone, staff and guests, said "merci et bonne soirée!"  It was my favorite moment of the week, and on top of it all, I did it in French, and boy, after a 5 year hiatus, some brushing up is in order!

I met the group in the morning.  It was fascinating to meet the other scholars, hearing their stories, what they're researching.  You can see their passion in their eyes when they start to explain their work, and I think because of that, everyone was playing their A-Game the entire week.  That's an important thing I've noticed: when people are doing what they're passionate about, they're happy, and that's something I have to take with me and remember in the future. After breakfast we headed across the street to the Court of Justice, in which resides the equivalent of the Supreme Court of the European Union.  There, we witnessed a case typical of those brought before the bench, a trademark dispute, between a Dutch bar and, coincidentally, the famous Salzburg brand, Red Bull.  Afterwards, the Lord Vice President of the court briefed us and answered our questions.  Turns out, he was a Fulbrighter himself, studied under Justice Breyer and with Chief Justice Roberts at Harvard before returning to his native Belgium as a professor.  From there, it was on to our next destination, Brussels.

Guild houses that line the Grand Place at the center of Brussels.

I enjoyed this city immensely.  It has a multicultural atmosphere, its architecture is a mixture of masterful Gothic, art nouveau, classical, and modern, its cuisine is diverse, and the old city is quaint and quickly became familiar.  Outside our hotel were stores of the four oldest chocolatiers in Belgium: Pierre Marcolini, Neuhaus, Leonidas, and Godiva, a situation which did not go untested.  When I look back, chocolate, waffles, and beer made up the majority of my diet during the week, with the occasional steak or, you know, substantive food thrown in.  It made me very happy!  There, though, we had a jam-packed schedule.  First we spent an entire day at the European Commission, the chief governing body of the European Union.  We learned about such varying issues as integration, security, environmental policy, economic policy, its history and future.  The following day, we visited the headquarters of NATO and were briefed by the U.S. Ambassador to the North Atlantic Council, who, again, was a Dutch Fulbrighter who liked the United States so much during his year of research that he stayed.  I learned so, so much about this organization during the course of the day.  In the evening, we visited the U.S. Mission to the EU, and again were briefed on its capacity.  

The final day of the seminar was spent in Bruges, a tiny city near the coast with a big history.  Once called the "Venice of the North," Bruges used to be Europe's largest port city.  Canals and rivers flow through the medieval city, and the architecture, though mosty 18th Century reproduction, brings one back to the Gothic era.  After our lectures at the College of Europe, we explored the city for a few hours before returning to Brussels to spend our last night at the hotel.

One of the many, many canals intersecting through the city center in Bruges, Belgium.

I wasn't wholly familiar with the intricacies of the EU and NATO before, or, for that matter, even some of the broader concepts, but this opportunity let me into a world that's terribly complicated and convoluted.  The EU was started over 50 years ago, as was NATO, both with a lot of backing from the U.S., primarily because America saw a stable, unified Europe as a security measure against the growing Soviet Union.  From there, both organizations have, I believe, genuinely tried to make the world a better place through integration.  Borders coming down, a common currency, a common law, and a shared goal of peace in the world.  It's not a perfect system, and its terribly bureaucratic, but I think they have the ability to do something  good for the world.  Something that really stuck me was something I learned at NATO.  In its founding document, there is a section, Article 5, which essentially says that if one member country is attacked, it is seen as attack on all members.  I was surprised that the first and only time it was invoked was after the United States was attacked on 9/11, and all member countries professed their support for America.  Even if it was only a gesture, how awesome, totally awesome, is it that nearly two dozen countries who, within the past 100 years, had been warring against each other, came together under the shield of peace and were willing to aid a country whose people had suffered at the hands of injustice. We have hundreds of countries, thousands of languages, millions of differences, billions of people, and yet, with organizations such as these, and actions like theirs on September 11th, the world is becoming smaller and smaller with each passing day, more unified, more friendly, more safe, more understanding, and I think that's pretty darn cool.