Month: March 2020

Regardless of where I live, I find that daily routines dominate life. I’m convinced that if I can’t derive joy from the everyday experiences then I’ll have difficulty deriving value in my life. Interestingly, some of my favorite memories of my time in Berlin are tied to those daily, mundane routines – as dull as they sometimes felt, they were defining characteristics of my experience. I think it’s important to say now that interning at the State Department was my first experience working a “9 to 5” (or in my case, 8:30 to 5:30) – this created a far more regimented schedule than I followed during university semesters.

            I’ve talked about coffee already in these blogs, but every day starts with coffee. In my case, coffee starts with a hand grinder and an AeroPress. No later than 6:30 every morning I’d have a podcast on, fresh grinding my beans, and boiling water. Those quiet ten minutes set the tone for my day – if I miss my morning brew, I can tell my day just isn’t set up the way I want. My kitchen window (on the fourth floor) overlooked Gesundbrunnen, a neighborhood in the former Soviet section of Berlin. I saw some amazing sunrises – the apartment might not have been much, but that kitchen was home to the best 10 minutes of my day.

            As noted, coffee essential to starting my day. But the gym is essential to finishing my day. I didn’t get off work until sometime around 17:30, and I didn’t really get anywhere fast in Berlin. So I wouldn’t get to the gym until sometime around 18:00, and I wouldn’t leave before 19:30 or 20:00 (I’m a self-acknowledged compulsive exerciser). But the thing that sticks with me about the gym isn’t really the workouts; it’s the commuting. In the US, I can’t imagine commuting more than about 30 minutes to get anywhere (a consequence of growing up in a small town). My shortest commutes in Berlin were ~30 minutes and commuting home from the gym would always take 45-60 minutes. I’d have to stop by the store for groceries 2-3 days during the week on the commute. Sometimes it would frustrate me since I’d just want to be home. I was frequently exhausted, spent from the day. But at the same time, I’m not sure I’d change it if I could. It gave me a new perspective – it taught me that there’s a lot more to life than what you see at University. It taught me patience; I needed to accept a 45-60 minute commute, because that was outside of my control. I learned a lot from that commute, and to be honest, I was ultimately able to let that hour be my time to decompress from the day.

            But there’s one true highlight from my time in Berlin: and that’s the Brandenburger Tor. For those unaware, the US Embassy in Berlin is on Pariser Platz, the square near the center of Berlin where the Brandenburger Tor stands. Every day I’d exit the S-Bahn station and walk up the stairs to, perhaps, the most iconic view in Germany. That view was new every morning; it never got old.

            I’m grateful for the cool stuff I got to do while living in Berlin, but those aren’t the only memories with which I leave Germany. I’ll remember the peaceful mornings brewing coffee, the Brandenburger Tor coming into view from the S-Bahn station, long commutes home at night. It’s those little things that really make the experience memorable.

            P.S. (This title is borrowed from Coldplay’s latest album “Everyday Life” – give it a listen, especially “Orphans,” “Champion of the World,” and the titular “Everyday Life.”

Well, I’ll say this: I didn’t imagine that I’d intern with the State Department during the most significant challenge the world has faced in my lifetime. If you had told me that freedoms across the Western world would be restricted in response to COVID-19 just as in China, I’d have told you that could never happen. That we’re be facing a financial crisis that’s likely greater in magnitude than that of 2008 – it’s staggering. The world, the economy, the way of life that we all thought was resilient and stable, just isn’t. My boss at the State Department was repeatedly said that “everyone’s going to know where they were doing the Coronavirus crisis. It’s this [my] generation’s 9/11.”   

From an overarching perspective, a few things strike me about this outbreak. First, the fragility of our economic system is shocking. Having watched this outbreak closely from a single nation’s perspective, its startling to see how a system that seemed so strong, so resilient, can crumble in the space of two weeks. When I got to Berlin in early February, we were just reporting on potential downstream economic consequences from China’s shutdown. We weren’t really looking at a potential outbreak in Germany. I don’t think any of us saw it coming; no one planned for an outbreak, much less one of this scale. And even two weeks ago, as of writing this, I was just a tourist in Copenhagen – flights were still mostly full, very few people had any sort of mask on, and life more or less went on as normal. Today, 90% or more of the scheduled flights in Berlin and Amsterdam have been cancelled and there’s probably someone with a mask on every row of this plane; there are no tourists. In airports, there’s a pervasive sense of impending calamity. It’s a different world than two months ago.

The fragility of the system has come through in my research on government responses to COVID-19 – it’s never felt like the government knew what to do. They’ve been playing catch-up, intensifying restrictions as the virus afflicts greater and greater swaths of the population. This isn’t just true for Germany – it’s true for virtually every nation in the Western world. The system that I assumed was solid enough to weather virtually any storm . . . just wasn’t.

Second, the human impact of COVID-19 is shocking. The terror of the virus came long before the virus itself. We saw “hamster buying” – hoarding essentials like toilet paper, eggs, and non-perishable foods – a stigma against those of east Asian descent (a stigma that still persists), and I’d argue a general discomfort of our fellow people (because we don’t know who has COVID-19). One needs only look at the disastrous situation in Northern Italy to see the necessity of quick and decisive action limiting social interactions, but we can’t allow these measures to pull our intention into ourselves exclusively. Now is not the time to lose our connection to others. There’s tremendous uncertainty on all fronts for us all – let’s not add isolation on top of the uncertainty that already permeates society.

As a part of my reporting on COVID-19 at the State Department, I read stories of hospitals being robbed of personal protective equipment (like respirators and the like). I’ve seen stories of people ignoring social distancing restrictions – choosing their temporary wants over the good of society. Let’s not be like them; let’s choose to act in ways that put the good of society first – if there’s one thing that came through virtually all the messaging in Germany, it was this: as citizens, we have the ability to control the effects of COVID-19 on the world. We can take actions that allow the healthcare system to support the burden. Chancellor Merkel said it well: this is the greatest crisis faced by Germany (and possibly the world) since WW2.

I don’t know what the future holds; when social distancing’s efficacy in slowing the outbreak will be seen, if we’ll become a more coherent or isolated society, etc. There are many unknowns. But one thing is certain: COVID-19 will change the world.

As I get older (which feels ironic at 21), the importance of expressing gratitude is made clearer and clearer to me. In that spirit, looking back at my two months in Germany, I’m struck by all the awesome stuff I got to experience. I visited Dresden, Prague, Cologne, Düsseldorf (unfortunately), Wroclaw, and Copenhagen. Besides that, I was living in Berlin, and Berlin is pretty awesome, not going to lie. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to travel, and even though my experience was different than I expected, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. On the topic of travel, I just have to mention Prague. Every street corner looks like a fairy tale, the Prague Castle complex is probably my single favorite landmark in Europe. It’s a bit crowded, but it deserves every bit of the attention it gets. Prague also has (in English) Chimney Cakes – delightful baked treats that can be slathered in Nutella to become even better.

            But Prague doesn’t have a monopoly on cool things – The Cologne Cathedral is awe inspiring. The imposing verticality, the mixture of monolithic permanence and spiritual elegance, is a sight to behold. I got to see a quartet perform Beethoven’s 5^th Symphony. They were frankly fantastic – it’s probably the most fun I’ve had a concert. And on the topic of music, I have to mention a street performer in Dresden who did acoustic covers of classic rock songs; I could’ve listened to him all night. I saw some incredible modern art at K20 in Düsseldorf – Edvard Munch and Pablo Picasso are incredible artists; it’s not just a question of form, they have an incredible ability to communicate torment, joy, confusion using a only few brushstrokes. But on the topic of art, I also found my new favorite artist at the Statens Museum for Kunst in Denmark. Anna Ancher is a Skagen artist, and her work, in perhaps a wild understatement, made me feel things. Her works are beautiful, emotive, (in a word) human. However, I’d say the single artistic highlight of my time in Berlin was a Jan Van Eyck at the Gemäldegalerie in Berlin – he’s just an astonishing artist.

I didn’t just get to see lots of awesome art, there’s also great coffee everywhere; and I certainly had plenty of it. This one coffee shop in Copenhagen had an awesome espresso blend that had strong, clear notes of strawberry; I think it might be my favorite cup of the trip. I had some fantastic breakfasts in Poland, great pizza in Prague (of all places), an awesome hamburger in Dresden, and my favorite donuts of all time that also happen to vegan in Berlin. You could say that food was an important part of my experience.

I’m grateful for the experience to intern at the State Department – I didn’t have any experience in an office environment before, and I hadn’t even interned anywhere previously either. It was a great first experience. I got experience on working eight-hour days (that’s not a nothing experience), reporting on a whole range of topics, and engaging with another governmental system. Even though my time there got cut short, I wouldn’t trade that experience for a semester at university.

Just like before, I’m ready to go back to Europe. See more things, eat good food, drink great coffee, and see some incredible history. I’m grateful for the time that I had, and I’ll always remember that on this trip to Europe, I didn’t just get to see historical sites: I saw history in the making.

The OU School of Dance occasionally brings in guest teachers with backgrounds in ethnic dance from other countries. Several weeks ago, they invited a man named Abubacar to teach a master class in African Dance. He brought with him two musicians, a family of drums, and a wild sense of energy.

Abubacar wasted no time in getting started with the class. After a brief introduction instructing us to “see, listen, and do” he dove into a series of grounded, athletic movements that we quickly began to explore in our own bodies. The musicians created a soundscape of pulsating rhythm as we danced. Over the course of the next two hours, we learned to embody the sounds of the drums, synchronizing our movements with the layered polyrhythms that they offered us. The exchange between the music and the dance made it feel less like a class and more like a gathering of community, each of us sharing our energy with the others to create something special together.

We learned a series of movements from koukou and liberté, two specific styles of dance unique to Abubacar’s home country. We put them together in a long phrase, which we repeated many times. It was an incredible workout, because there were no pauses; each movement lead seamlessly into the next, each requiring immense physicality. And yet, even as sweat beaded along my skin, I did not feel the exertion. I was lost in the pulse of the drums, the heartbeat of our gathering.

After three days of master classes and performances, our final day in Canún was nothing short of an idyllic vacation! Nestled into an overwhelming final semester, this day spent exploring Mexico provided a much needed dose of relaxation.

Our first stop was at Chichen Itza, the famous site of the Aztec pyramids. I vividly remember the unit in 7th grade social sciences class focused on the native peoples of central America, and I can remember learning about the pyramids, the sacrificial rituals, and the ball game that defined Aztec culture. Pictures never did true justice to the architectural marvels of their society, but getting to see their majesty in person was astonishing, and certainly not something I ever thought I would experience. My favorite fun fact from our tour guide: there was a bird that lived during the time of the Aztecs that would make a distinct call during its mating season, and this call was used as a signal for workers to begin planting and preparing their fields. The way the pyramids are built, when you clap right next to the base, the sound will reverberate and make a noise almost identical to this bird call. This sound was used by Aztec royalty to control workers and direct them toward different tasks.

Our next stop for the day was a sink hole where locals and tourists alike go to enjoy the crystal water deep beneath the surface. These sinkholes are called Cenotes, and were created by the impacts of asteroids millions of years ago. The walls is the Cenotes were rocky and lush, and the water at the bottom was wonderfully cool and clear. There was a ledge 60 feet up that the adventurous could choose to jump from. Unlike many, I love heights; I ran off the ledge chasing the intoxicating feeling of flying, streamlining my body at the last minute as I braced for the impact of the water.

Special skill acquired: jumping over pyramids!

On our second day in Cancún, we took two master classes at the Talulah Centro Integral de Danza. The first was with a jazz teacher from Spain, who taught us a sassy, upbeat combination. Despite the fact that the studio had no air conditioning and the heat in the room was oppressive, it was incredibly fun, and I loved having the opportunity to share the space with pre-professional students from other countries. Although the teacher conducted the class in Spanish, we were able to understand what she was saying through the movements of her body; we all spoke the language of dance. That afternoon, we took a ballet class with Cynthia Harvey, a former prima ballerina who danced with American Ballet Theatre. Although the class was much more familiar stylistically, it was still a wonderful learning experience.

The International Dance Encounter sponsored performances at two different regional theaters that weekend. We had spent the three weeks prior to the trip preparing two pieces to perform in the shows. One of these was a neoclassical work choreographed by our director, and the other was a contemporary work choreographed by another dance professor. The timespan to create these pieces and clean them (a dance term used to indicate how we work toward precision of steps, timing, and artistic intent) was relatively short, and our rehearsal schedule was quite intense during this period.

Once in Cancún, however, it was time to focus on performing! On Friday night, we performed in Playa del Carmen, a city about an hour from Cancún. The OU dancers had a private dressing room, and we spent the afternoon hanging out together before the performance. This setup was rather deluxe compared to the following night, when we were crammed together with the other performers in more narrow quarters. However, despite the limited space to get settled and warm up, it was nice to be able to interact with the other dancers and support one another before going onstage. There was a wonderful sense of community between all of us, and in the spirit of sharing our art with one another.

Saturday night’s performance was held at the theatre in Cancún, and in addition to the smaller dressing rooms, both the backstage area and the stage itself presented new challenges for us to navigate. One of the difficult aspects of touring dance is that you never quite know what the circumstances of the performance space will be. The stage at this theatre was raked, meaning that from the middle of the stage to the base there was a gradual declining slant. This changes where you need to place your center of balance, and in just one technical rehearsal we had to make this adjustment. There were also stairs that had to be taken to get from one side of the backstage area to the other, and having to fly up and down these two flights tested our ability to make the quick crossover at the end of our first piece. We were able to confront every challenge with grace, however, and focus on the magic of performing. And in this case, the magic of performing for an audience in a new and wonderful place.

Mexico has long been on my list of places to visit. When the dance department at OU announced last semester that they would be taking a group of dancers to the International Dance Encounter, an annual festival that takes place in Cancún, Mexico, I was ecstatic to find my name on the list chosen to participate. The IDC is organized by the Talulah Centro Integral de Danza in association with the foundation Save the Children, and every year they hold a weekend of benefit performances that bring artists together from around the world.

We arrived on a Wednesday, and were picked up at the airport by our host families. These were the families of children who dance at the Talulah Centro Integral de Danza, and they welcomed us into their homes with open arms. Our family lived in a beautiful two-story home that overlooked the water. They owned a boat docked right behind the house, and on our first night together, they took us out on the water at sunset. We were able to jump into the Gulf of Mexico and swim in the clear blue water. Feeling the wind in my hair as we sped back in the fading light, I felt like I was in a dream.

The next day, Thursday, we took two master classes at the dance studio. The first was with a jazz teacher from Spain, who taught us a sassy, upbeat combination. Despite the fact that the studio had no air conditioning and the heat in the room was oppressive, it was incredibly fun, and I loved having the opportunity to share the space with pre-professional students from other countries. Although the teacher conducted the class in Spanish, we were able to understand what she was saying through the movements of her body; we all spoke the language of dance. That afternoon, we took a ballet class with Cynthia Harvey, a former prima ballerina who danced with American Ballet Theatre. Although the class was much more familiar stylistically, it was still a wonderful learning experience.

The International Dance Encounter sponsored performances at two different regional theaters that weekend. We had spent the three weeks prior to the trip preparing two pieces to perform in the shows. One of these was a neoclassical work choreographed by our director, and the other was a contemporary work choreographed by another dance professor. The timespan to create these pieces and clean them (a dance term used to indicate how we work toward precision of steps, timing, and artistic intent) was relatively short, and our rehearsal schedule was quite intense during this period.

Once in Cancún, however, it was time to focus on performing! On Friday night, we performed in Playa del Carmen, a city about an hour from Cancún. The OU dancers had a private dressing room, and we spent the afternoon hanging out together before the performance. This setup was rather deluxe compared to the following night, when we were crammed together with the other performers in more narrow quarters. Despite the limited space to get settled and warm up, it was nice to be able to interact with the other dancers more openly and support one another before going onstage. Saturday night’s performance was held at the theatre in Cancún, and in addition to the smaller dressing rooms, both the backstage area and the stage itself presented new challenges for us to navigate. One of the difficult aspects of touring dance is that you never quite know what the circumstances of the performance space will be. The stage at this theatre was raked, meaning that from the middle of the stage to the base there was a gradual declining slant. This changes where you need to place your center of balance, and in just one technical rehearsal we had to make this adjustment. There were also stairs that had to be taken to get from one side of the backstage area to the other, and having to fly up and down these two flights tested our ability to make the quick crossover at the end of our first piece. We were able to confront every challenge with grace, however, and focus on the magic of performing. And in this case, the magic of performing for an audience in a new and wonderful place.