nomadderwhere

What our experiences in Berlin look like thus far

Though I’m not processing my own experiences in video form as of lately (due to lack of time), I’m really please with what I’ve been able to crank out in Berlin. There are moments when what I’ve documented for work has impacted me, mostly at Wannsee Haus where the Final Solution was created.

In this great city of culture and history, cinematic moments abound. Here are the ones I’ve caught thus far.

Getting lost in Berlin

Global Studies teacher Andrew McLean sent the students on a scavenger hunt around Berlin, Germany this weekend. Though they were asked to visit points of interest like famous synagogues and the Pergamon museum, students were encouraged to discover new locations and have personal experiences with their new host city. Equipped with their iPhones, they documented each unique adventures to share with peers and reflect afterward. (L. Clark)

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Finding the fulcrum below me in Berlin

The immigration line stretched to meet me
at row 35 on the 767-200.
A strong arm could toss a tennis ball
beyond the width of TXL’s international wing.
Elbowing through the Red Rover chain
that was a Canadian tour group,
bags launched to my shoulders and bolted for fresh air.

The weather did not mirror the excitement and pleasure
of the first day and week to come.
Berlin was about to agree with us.

I immediately employed my limited German
to interact with multiple bus and taxi drivers
who appeared miserable with their lives.
Butchered ‘danke’s and ‘bitte’s soon paired
with curtsies and exaggerated pleasantries.
Three months is a long time to suffer
daily angst from miscommunication.

Students arrived and assimilated, and
the snowball started rolling, gaining unshakable width.
My right arm quivered under the heft of a Canon.

Rare disorientation, often the product of group travel,
made me a slave to GPS, moving like a duckling.
Nights in the city spurred on emotive gushing;
once again we’re individuals displaced and building
community like modge podge that dents in transit,
further evidence that humans need connection.
We run from one to another obligation.

Ein Bier, bitte, and Haribo Bären;
new habits are quickly forming under a
ridiculous guise of cultural immersion.

I left the flowery trees of Indiana to find
buds of the most delicate green across the pond.
The contrast doesn’t have to be stark for
time travel to make eyes pop open.
My body asserts the need for a range
of clothing, to shelter from the temperate climate
I associate with normalcy.

White walls tall with character and comfort
and Ikea now house all revelry and focus.
In this vacuum, I crank experience into content.

I suck chaos and uncertainty out of the
daily equation, letting three locks and 4km
create a void to be filled by me. Right now.
And when I reach a capacity that signals
others to sigh for the day, a bike and a lake and
reflective outlets become not only excusable,
cushions for my human frailty.

Like a sheet of sugar glass
my back crunches from its office chair history,
but this output is what justifies the means.

It’s not the typical unwelcome vacuum this time
but an unconventional lifestyle in context;
I know others exist and uncommon moments occur.
Still, relative pain and conflict splatter
over what pleases me, removed from comparison.
And maybe I haven’t yet reached the age for anxiety
that this isn’t the way to be, which makes me anxious.

I see that 3/4ths of my thinking is committed to the
active pursuit of sustainable humanity: live music,
organic experience, bubble-popping, connections.

There has been a shift in balance toward a very likable center.

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Photoblog: Details of the hipster haven that is Berlin

Ten days ago, I descended into a brisk, foggy day at TXL, equipped with a new currency, my crusty old travel backpack, and a vague awareness of my new home‘s coordinates. In the time since my arrival, I’ve gotten familiar with the suburb of Kleinmachnow and explored my neighborhood on foot.

Yesterday was my first wander around downtown Berlin, camera in hand. I’ve started my three-month exploration of the city at a popular hub, roughly the Williamsburg of Berlin: Rosenthaler Platz. Here are just a few moments.

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Guten tag and lederhosen and whatnot: Bound for Berlin

Today, I fly to Berlin, Germany. I’m not ready, but my bags will be in a couple hours time. And by tomorrow morning, I will have landed in my new home for the next three months. Take away this woman’s sweet safari hat, nicely-pressed dress, and hat box, replace it with yoga pants, a sweaty brow, and a cheap tote filled with laptops and this is me today.

Man, she’s classy.

This atypical post with a relative real-time update hopefully marks a shift in content on Nomadderwhere in the coming months. This blog sprouted from the internet soils as a nautical travelogue, and it has since become something I’m still proud of – with its focus on concepts and inquiries about the art of travel. But I’ve been neglectful of the actual experiences I face and consume, instead focusing my documentation energy on telling my students how valuable it is to document. Silly me. I forgot to continue my own practice, sermon after sermon.

I’m actually making lots of progress as of lately with documentation on the back end. You’ll see those fruits very soon.

It is time to move back into the realm of travel narratives, and trust that there are plenty backlogged from these last few years in travel production. Berlin is the third and final stop this academic year on the TGS world tour.

There will be beer. There will be the slow and steady apprehension of the German language (yay heritage!). And I will be learning big, powerful, life-changing lessons every week from this community of international minds. You will see more of these things in the weeks and months to come, and hopefully from the this trajectory, experiences from the past will seep through my fingertips toward cyberspace.

I tweet a lot more than I blog these days, so get a sense of what I do by following nomadderwhere on Twitter.

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Emilio Estevez inspires us all to pilgrimage through Spain

I first heard about the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in an art history course called The Medieval City. Dr. Diane Reilly made it sound rockin’ – an historic route through France, the Pyrenees, and Spain that devout Catholics took to reach one of three cathedrals with the remains of an apostle, in this case St. James. Traditionally the pilgrims trekked barefoot and penny-less through the mountains and vast expanses, accepting hospitality from churches and homes on the path.

Between the 12th and 14th centuries Santiago de Compostela grew in importance and prestige, at times even eclipsing the pilgrim routes to Jerusalem and Rome. It is remarkable that tens of thousands of pilgrims chose to suffer the hazards of this route every year during the Middle Ages. A combination of the relative accessibility of the route and the miracles associated with the relics of the Saint beneath the magnificent cathedral were certainly contributing factors in its popularity. (Camino Guides)

Sheen plays the protagonist of this story, as a mild and conservative father who finds out his son died while attempting the historic trek. In an attempt to fulfill his son’s goal and to process his own grief, Sheen treks the entire length, picking up comrads in a Wizard of Oz-esque fashion.

My parents watched this film at the Heartland Film Festival and felt it was one I needed to see. My mother reflected after our shared screening, “I got choked up on that car ride to the airport, when the son tells his dad he has to go because it’s there. That sounds like something you’ve said.”

We’ve shared many a ride reeking of the same sentiment. Read More »

Reviewing Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods

It’s been sitting on my bookshelf for years, a novel by a favorite travel writer and a recommended read from everyone, including my high school English teacher. Bill Bryson set the stage for my Australian experience in 2009 with In a Sunburned Country and had me audibly exclaiming from his brutal descriptions of small-town life. In this book, Bill attempts to charge through the over 2,100 miles of mountainous footpath called the Appalachian Trail. This is probably as close as I’ll come to tackling the trail myself, and through what vehicle would this vicarious journey be better than through the eyes of an underprepared 40+ year-old journalist and his even more underprepared, undermotivated, overweight, formerly alcoholic comrade.

The Storyline

Bryson’s curiosity for the intimidating footpath near his home in New Hampshire leads him to its southern-most mouth, alongside former travel friend Stephen Katz. Together – both ill-prepared and facing a steep physical learning curve – they begin the Appalachian Trail with the goal of measuring its entirety with their hiking boots, one pair fresh out of the box.

Sleet meets them at the starting line in Georgia in March, and cold days/nights characterize the setting of their first amusing stories. Juxtaposed with Cut-Corners Katz, Bryson has the determination of an ox, though they both struggle to get their footing under the 70 lb. of equipment on their backs. The hikers meet both section and thru-hikers along the way, and Bryson’s comparative descriptions never fail to hit that self-deprecating height of humor that makes him so endearing. Read More »

What Alain de Botton says about the anticipation of travel

My reading comprehension is atrocious, my tracking snail-like. The only thing I remember from high school reading is Holden Caulfield’s half-gray hair and his famous line with middle fingers extended toward his despised boarding school. I love to read, and I always have; I’m just not very good at it. And just as I would rather visit a new country than repeat an old one, I try not to re-read books I’ve tackled in the past.

Though plots and anecdotes don’t stick in my memory, my impression of the book always does. That’s why I remember how much I loved Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel, so much so that I want it to be a part of Creative Arts class next term (did you know I’ve been teaching?). It’s unique focus on literature and art history woven into personal travel anecdotes is seemingly undone by anyone else in this field. Alain verifies this in his book description:

Few things are as exciting as the idea of travelling somewhere else. But the reality of travel seldom matches our daydreams. The tragi-comic disappointments are well-known: the disorientation, the mid-afternoon despair, the lethargy before ancient ruins. And yet the reasons behind such disappointments are rarely explored.

We are inundated with advice on where to travel to; we hear little of why we should go and how we could be more fulfilled doing so. The Art of Travel is a philosophical look at the ubiquitous but peculiar activity of travelling ‘for pleasure’, with thoughts on airports, landscapes, museums, holiday romances, photographs, exotic carpets and the contents of hotel mini-bars. The book mixes personal thought with insights drawn from some of the great figures of the past. Unlike existing guidebooks on travel, it dares to ask what the point of travel might be – and modestly suggests how we could learn to be less silently and guiltily miserable on our journeys.

I welcomed its digestible 249 pages on this trip to Thailand, and now that I’ve finished my latest Bill Bryson adventure, I am diving back into The Art of Travel for both personal fulfillment and professional inspiration. I think this book may be the most accurate study of my constant state of mind. As I re-read this text, I will post favorite excerpts from each chapter, in hopes that this teaser turns more of you toward Alain and his brilliant musings. We don’t need more people writing about logistics and tips; we need to start asking, “To what effect?” Read More »

Weird just happened – a unpredictable 2011 in retrospect

Dear Internet,

I’ve been horrible, saying I’m going to write and then rarely following through. And it’s not for lack of noteworthy developments; this was an unbelievably unpredictable and diverse 2011, with certain promise of continuation in 2012.

Upon returning to Indiana this holiday season, to a world so different from my working one, I managed to find only one word that adequately describes my baffled reflection on the year’s events: weird. How did I experience the myriad twists, obstacles, and accomplishments that plopped me into the role I’m in now? Did that all really just happen? And I didn’t even really get to tell you about it…

2011 was a weird year, and I don’t consider that word to be derogatory – for the most part. Here, Internet, let me fill you in on the tidbits worth noting. Read More »

Domestic deficiencies and my learning curve post-Ecuador

Living in one place for a couple months – regardless of one’s experience – inevitably causes nostalgia upon leaving and for a succeeding period of time. If it was a bad time, the pleasant memories override the bad, and if it was a good time, as was Ecuador, everything habitual and endearing continues to perpetuate once home again.

In my case, the lingering reflexes from previous travels usually mess me up in Indiana – sometimes big time. I tend to call these the ironies of my lifestyle, but lately I feel it’s more a deficiency in domestic knowledge, exacerbated by my fondness for the last three months of international living.

I can’t live up to familial expectations

Once I knew my work dates for December, my sister-in-law planned her son’s baptism around my schedule – to make sure I could definitely attend. And there I was on the morning of his christening, coffee in hand doing the two-step warm-up dance outside in tights, watching my friend’s husband jump my borrowed car’s battery where it sat 90 miles from the church. It’s not too hard to remember to turn the headlights off in the pitch black of night the evening prior, but that’s assuming one gets those pangs of common sense.

…because I’m used to: cheap taxis and close proximity

When my school’s transportation or my feet couldn’t take me where I needed to be, I could stand on a curb in the historic center and hail a yellow car that never cost more than $5, even for a twenty minute trip. Distances traveled – in this country smaller than Nevada – were relatively miniscule compared my US of A expectations.

In my breaths between trips, I rely on my wheeling-and-dealing car salesman of a brother to have a means of getting around. Taxis in Indiana are as scattered as stars with meters that run like Michael Johnson. Not efficient, easy, or happening. Read More »

This is what the last three months in Ecuador looked like

A break from being on-location isn’t a vacation; it’s when post-production begins. The gray days of Indiana don’t make me feel guilty for holing up in my room, rubbing elbows with the likes of Photoshop and Final Cut Pro. Though I got to experience some incredible sights in my three months in Ecuador, the majority of my time was spent staring at a similar vista: a high-powered spread of Steve Jobs’ many contributions to society.

With two terabytes of content to weed through, the process is slow and deliberate. As media specialist, I have to provide the window into life and academics at the world’s first and only global, mobile high school. What my viewfinder sees is what prospective students, teachers, and interested parties see. It’s challenging, but I can be creative, innovative, and create the kind of media that organically comes out of my system.

My hands have only process a small fraction of what my eye saw in Ecuador, this being my current photographic output.

There was rarely a time when I didn’t feel the necessity to document something; it all carried the weight of potentially useful in the eyes of a one-person production crew. My schedule seemed the product of an ADHD-ridden ninja. And on those rarest of occasions, I was able to venture around the corner of my hotel home to see angles of Cuenca myself.

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Coastline and culture in New England

I’ve decided that, these days, if I can produce a blog post a month, I’m a lucky gal. Lucky to find breaths between beloved jobs to do similar work of my own volition. Lucky to be able to reflect on experiences and milk what value can be gathered. I doubt the cafe I edited in today for four hours felt lucky to have a table occupied by a one cappuccino gal, but I’m lucky I found that space this month to process my August road trip through New England.

What was meant to be a longer trek through areas of Maine and Vermont had to be cut short due to the panic surrounding Hurricane Irene. The trip had no conclusion in real time. It felt like a rush job of a trip, even more so the documentation of it, but what resulted is a video exalting the thing I studied most – the water that I feel sources so much of the grit and character of New Englanders.

I was surprisingly unfocused on my fleeting dollars being allocated to gas, the pile of money I dropped for the rental car, or my lack of accurate driving instructions or lodging reservations. The nausea I usually reserve for typical tourist activity – the expensive kind – took a vacation as well. Instead, I felt loosely propelled by the desire to consume miles of coastline and smell a breeze conceived hemispheres away.

Like gulping sweet water in the middle of the night, driving was refreshing after my nine month car-fast, a guilty binge on air, music, and speed with a known expiration. And with this limited excursion, I caught wind of what a conventional adult vacation smells like – not bad at all, in fact pleasantly normal, if infrequent and savored for its rarity.

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I’ve been through New England in a car with no plan

My entire summer was a jig-saw puzzle to assemble. Trips, subleases, weddings, births, and work were spaced out just so, as to make every two-week chunk a mystery until it was present. All flights were booked dangerously close to the week of departure, some including feline carry-ons and 12 hour durations.

On top of air chaos, I often didn’t know where I was going to be living or how to coordinate the housing of my cat (while she was still being a vagabond in New York). Newly cat-free and with a new job supplying accommodations for nine months out of the year, I decided against having a place in New York City and got a subletter lined up immediately.

There was a lapse of time between leaving my apartment and the start of work accommodations, leaving me temporarily homeless and living out of bags – something I tend to enjoy. During one of those weeks, I decided to rent a car and witness a region I’ve barely visited: New England.

Until I can whip up a fantastic video, here is a photoblog courtesy of my Blackberry.

Driving out of Queens, NY in my first rental car

Driving out of Queens in my first rental car

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How an e-mail scored me another travel gig

I’ve been vague for months about what I do now. This is the long-alluded-to explanation of my new employment and how I got it.

In this evolving career of mine, I’ve taken many different tactics to attracting and pursuing jobs. I’ve ‘dressed for the job I wanted’ by creating the content I like to make, hoping those who need that work get wind of mine. Years of shooting resumes and cover letters into the online abyss that is an HR email account has never wielded the results most Baby Boomers seem to believe in adamantly. That act feels like tweeting to zero followers, “I’m awesome! You know you want this, and you CAN get this!”

But for me, nothing proves more fruitful than re-engaging in this multi-faceted industry. I like travel, media, the digital realm, education, art, and a unique combination of all. While my involuntary immersion practices don’t allow for fully connected ‘field’ time with my peers, it’s in those months between travels that I reemerge a human with new ideas and the ability to answer e-mails. And on this particular instance, I truly realized how few degrees are in between me and something I would love – the same goes for you, too, I’m sure.

We are always a few friends and clicks away from a fantastic gig, apartment, love interest, and/or Kevin Bacon. Read More »

Is film school worth it these days?

Yet another feature came out of my fingertips this week, one that started from the seed of a simple video on pixels. Entitled ‘How to produce award-winning films without going to film school‘, this piece packs in huge amount of information from some of the most outspoken self-taught cinematographers on the net.

Film school or no?

I went to art school, a study I’m sure many people would claim needs no formality or implied success with a degree, so I expected a little retaliation by film schoolers. Surprisingly, none have surfaced yet. Just I wait.

Without belittling the certain perks of attending film school (or formally studying any specialty for that matter), I believe if you’re motivated, there’s a way to teach yourself enough to obtain a great job, gain work experience, and prosper with continued self-improvements. As many advocates for the self-taught film path cite, it’s likely your favorite filmmaker didn’t study his craft at school either.

The underlined actions to take away from the piece include:

Get schooled for free at your own pace – with Vimeo Video School and online tutorials by self-taught filmmakers such as Philip Bloom

Get fluent in the ever-changing tools – Zacuto instructional videos, NoFilmSchool.com cinematography guide, and getting creative with basic tools like iPhones

Position yourself for the current job market – learn how to be autonomous like Alexander Fox of CrewOfOne.com Read More »

Investigating the art and evolution of the film title

I’ve managed to compile myriad jobs and hobbies that complement each other, one absorbing skills to improve the other, making me feel like I’m ascending Penrose steps.

I spent the day researching ways to improve filmmaking skills that don’t include paying for or attending film school, a theme I’m covering for Matador. While doing so, I ran across this gem of a video, which attracted me with its RJD2 soundtrack alone. Also, I’d give ‘the art of…’ anything a chance (even that horrible Art of Travel movie).

Perusing the many videos highlighting brilliant title sequences in film and TV, I’m immediately jazzed about learning animation and advanced graphics. My previous practice with titles in online video is to produce the title within ten seconds of its start. Aside from some stylistic guidelines, that’s all the thought I’ve applied. With this study spanning decades of filmmaking, I’m inspired to pay closer attention to my video introductions, more than just watching the timeline and using a provided Motion template.

Perhaps the most intriguing comparison with past and present concepts is the affinity for an aged appearance. It’s comforting and pleasantly dusty, and it gives me more ideas for vintage effects. Do you have any favorite video motif that you rely on the title sequence delivering? Read More »

A weekend in Boston

I took a vacation for myself, and it was evidence enough that the casual weekend away should be more of a priority. It was close by, surprisingly economical, and equivalent to a routine enema – a metaphorical flushing of habitual activity, not your bi-weekly bowl of Colon Blow.

Here’s a vignette of my weekend with friends in Boston, Massachusetts.

I’m overly focused on the long-term trip, when really there are far more people (especially in America) poised and prepared to go somewhere for a couple days than there are people raring for an RTW. Are there any weekend trips you’ve always wanted to take but haven’t yet? Tell me about it, and then go book your Megabus ticket. Read More »

Why do you like time lapse videos?

If you get a little tired of waiting for my posts on Nomadderwhere – which I admit have become incredibly random and sparse – I’ll give you a little supplementary material. Recently, I wrote a feature for the Matador Network entitled ‘Why the obsession with time lapse video?‘ Have you ever wondered this yourself? What’s your reasoning?

I’m reposting here some of my points, but be sure to check out the full post on MatadorTV and provide your own commentary.

Why time lapse for storytelling?

As a member of the MatadorTV triad, I appreciate the whole spectrum of travel video production, from the cinematic to the gritty. Video is an accessible vehicle for storytelling that can avoid the obstacles ever-present with language. And even though written word can facilitate a sensory experience, the combination of visual and audio elements is powerful on fleeting attention spans.

In browsing TV’s most popular posts to date, time lapse comes away a clear front-runner of stylistic and technical approaches, and these videos tend to follow a different editing pattern than most. Cuts are longer. Static shots are still dynamic. The resident audio is usually stripped from the footage and replaced by a soundtrack, and people still manage to follow a storyline and maintain focus on the evolving subject matter. Warped time appears to keep viewers engaged.

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The road called and demanded a Boston weekend

I haven’t traveled somewhere new for the sole purpose of leisure in a long time. Ironically, my mind doesn’t focus on potential trips I can take myself on without a ‘work’ angle – work being a very fuzzy concept often mistaken for hobby.

Moving to New York and the east coast was a strategic escape from the Midwest region that I’ve already traversed and learned to appreciate. In this portion of the states, aside from the city whose Indian name is Big Apple (or more accurately, Manna-hata), I’ve only meandered through Rockport, Maine. And I’m not even sure a trip centered around a daunting photojournalism course counts for leisure.

I wanted to be surrounded by unknown territory and be inspired to constantly day trip or weekend elsewhere. There were music festivals to attend, mountains on which to frolic, friends and family to visit – an abundance of excuses.

Well, the inspiration and excuses weren’t strong enough for the first eight months, but the road called me this weekend. Yes, she dialed me up – on Skype – and said: Read More »

Where do we learn best and become our best selves?

Before I publish an extensive post that dictates my next step in travel/work/life, which I’ve alluded to on Twitter, I wanted to share some videos I watched yesterday as a direct result of this recent thinking.

If you follow Nomadderwhere, you may know I’ve spent the last couple years chasing and creating educational initiatives. Having uprooted the family for high school, sought study abroad programs with fervor, developed programs in Nakavika, and obsessed over videos on global education, it’s ever-apparent I have an affinity for pursuing and cheerleading quality education, both in the traditional sense and otherwise.

Recently, I received an invitation to visit China with a group of teachers and students who were conducting a school there. And by there, I mean China. The school was China. China was the classroom, the subject, and the geographical home – at least for this trimester. And in this non-traditional learning environment, I began to wonder which experience in my own life had educated me the most: the pricey private high school, the college years that tested my application of academics in real life, or the tens of thousands of miles traveled after leaving ‘classrooms’ in my contrail. Read More »

Indy to NYC: Flying with Felines

This is a two-pronged post – conceptual and practical – so before you hate on cats, read the first half and reap the benefits.

This week officially marked my sixth month living in New York City. Spending $100+ on shipping boxes was a cost I happily incurred, in the moment and in hindsight. Transporting little things on quick trips home was a breeze, especially since I’ve already weeded through and prioritized my material things in life. But the last step in this transition and relocation was the transportation of my 10 year-old feline, Alli.

Owning a cat at this stage in the game is one of the few things that goes against my potential nomadic ease. Three years of college in dorms and sorority houses weren’t conducive to hosting her, and post-college travels only had me in her vicinity for 49% of that time. For nearly ten years, my parents were wildly flexible and tolerant to house my shedding ball of love. And when the decision to move to New York called for a serious analysis of my pet ownership, I was overwhelmed at the extent to which I couldn’t live without her.

We suburban Midwestern gals tend to grow painfully attached to our household animals, and I assume this touches on a maternal reaction to a dependent’s reliance, which we embrace with fervor. We hear and respond to ‘the call’ – whether it’s directed at us or not – to serve other beings. And it hits us with a glee/glum one-two punch; the latter only for the inevitable life choices or threat of loss an invested pet owner must face.

Though I find it a ridiculous debate and one that deserve zero airtime in any arena, I know not everyone enjoys cats, hearing about cats, justifying the existence of cats, etc. And though I am scribing and cutting video with those feline travelers in mind, Alli has been an obstacle to one half of my lifestyle and a beloved necessity to the other.

Dare I say we all have similar parallels? Read More »