Exotic Europe?

This blog is supposed to track my changes through my European adventure, but I don't think I'll change so I ought to be upfront about these feelings.

Through the 1000+ years of literature, people have labeled Europe, or parts of it, exotic. Writers who have never been to a country will write about it and their readers, who also have never been, will eat it up and rave about how exotic it is. Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe is on the GRE but Professor Johnson had us read excerpts from it to mock it along with Jane Austen in Northanger Abbey. Radcliffe wrote about Italy and their mountains and some great mystery in a castle, none of which she had any experience with. I bet she hadn't even traveled to Italy. But the readers didn't know any better based on her descriptions and it's a foreign land with a deep history so of course they'd be interested.

And that's how Americans are about civilized parts of Europe, you know, Western Europe. No one wants to go to Slovakia. We've romanticized W. Europe as exotic and so interesting and breath-taking. And Wales isn't even on typical lists. There's France, Italy, Spain, Ireland and England. Not all of the UK, just England.

And it's not because we've never been there. I've never been to Washington but I'm not antsy to jet over and get doused by their rain. All this excitement is because we're told to be excited.

After two weeks in the Rockies, I was no longer amazed by anything but the peak of a mountain I climbed, so I bet the honeymoon will end quickly for the "beauty" of Wales. And once that phase is over, all that'll be left is the everyday life. Which will be interesting, but no more interesting than it would be in Iowa. No one describes sloshing through the muck on a rainy day or seeing pigs and cows and corn as beautiful. Even folks in Europe don't have that misconception. But Snowdonia's beauty will fade into a backdrop. The rolling hills will become something to trek up while grumbling. The everyday rains will lose their charm.

I'm not writing this because I think Wales won't be great. I'm writing this because everyone seems focused on the wrong things. The beauty will be in the persons. Once I figure out what's cultural, I can't see their humanity being any different than ours.

But this is just a prediction. I'm eager to be wrong. 

Pre-trip Excitement

Over the months I've been telling friends, family, professors and my barber about how I was excited and a little nervous about this trip. I lied. 

There've been no late nights, wondering "Will I have a good time? Will I make friends? Will I find anything to eat that isn't traditional Welsh food like laverbread which is made from seaweed?" Other than informing people of when I'll no longer be available or answering their questions about what I'm going over there for, I haven't raved about Wales. I've told people about the occasional fun fact like that I might join the Bangor Apprectiating Literature & Language Society (BALLS is the acronym) or that I get Tuesdays or Thursdays off to go hiking through Snowdonia national park or that my classes don't begin until a month after everyone's in America. I haven't been doing the countdown to my flight like my mom has, I haven't been making a big to-do over see-ya-laters, and I haven't researched the town and culture. The closest thing to excitement has been my exercise routine to get in shape for the Welsh ladies. 

I just wasn't excited or nervous or feeling much of anything about it. I also wasn't feeling any regret so I am thinking it'll be a worthwhile trip. The only dread I've felt is when looking at the price on my plane tickets and rain suit. I'm naturally a stoic person I guess, and cheap apparently. I've always been like this before college and high school. The last time I was excited about a natural progression of life that everyone else makes a big deal of was when I got my license, and that faded when we tore the house apart looking for my social security card that was hidden in a box in the basement. 

But I had a moment of excitement. While my bath water ran, I cleaned off my college stuff from the guest room's bed and tossed it in my closet then hefted my suitcases onto the bed and started packing. When my bath water was nearly to the overflow, I stopped packing and sat in the tub and then drained some water and ran some hot water so I wasn't shivering the soap to suds. 

No one just cleans themselves in the tub or shower. It's a place for thinking. So while my hair was lathered and my eyes squinted shut so the shampoo didn't burn, I had my moment of excitement. It was almost here.

Then I submerged and got water in my ear and the excitement passed.

My Blog

I'm leaving for Wales late on the 31st (of August) or early on the 1st, so I figure I ought to have a blog, you know, to update the three people in my life. I don't know what I'll say after this post because I don't know how I'll react to all the funny accents and new people.

I have to join a club so maybe that'll be something to talk about. And I'll be going to Snowdonia national park once a week so I might have pictures. And I'll have roommates so maybe I'll have rants. My seven flatmates will wonder why I'm in my room so often, so maybe I'll put creative writings in here then point the Brits to this and say, "See, I really was being productive and not avoiding you."

I don't know.