by Josie Pyke, IU South Bend student taking part in the IU South Bend – Université de Toulon student exchange.
My experience in Toulon France has been amazing!
So far, in my first two months here, one of my favorite things about Toulon is the weather – like much of the rest of Southern France, it is consistently about 60 degrees Fahrenheit, of course with some days better than others. The sun is almost always shining here, which is in great contrast to Indiana.
Sunset on the Mediterranean
The number of international student here at the University of Toulon is also a wonderful part of my experience. Of course, I was expecting to meet French people, but I have met so many people from all over the world and it is exciting to think that I will have these connections. Most students I have befriended are super understanding when I must take extra time to think about speaking French.
Finally, probably my favorite part about being here is having the time to travel and see sights I have never seen before. Another student from IU South Bend and I had the chance to go to Paris on our winter break in February and it was unreal to be able to be there on our own.
A Full Moon and Notre Dame of Paris
There are even some places near Toulon that are so beautiful to be beyond words. Overall, I am incredibly grateful to have had this opportunity to be in this beautiful city for a semester.
For Anne Magnan-Park, connecting with a place – its sheer physical commanding presence – is a process. Past, present, inherited, silenced, made-up, and dreamed-up experiences connected to that space compete in a mess of spontaneous conversations. Here, Anne reflects on her interaction with a place and an elder who may not be entirely unfamiliar to you.
Nineteenth Century French novelist Marcel Proust had tea and a madeleine to conjure up powerful, seemingly lost personal experiences in Remembrance of Things Past. What if we had collective madeleines to experience a place through multiple perspectives and time frames, inclusive of silenced narratives? As a Franco-Hoosier immigrant, I don’t indulge in madeleines, but I do have a lake. Or rather, I do stand by a lake. A lake as palpable as it is elusive. A sacred, ancient, mountainous, madeleine lake.
For the past two years, during which we have had to distance ourselves from our closest relatives residing overseas, my daughter and I have come to embrace Lake Michigan as an elder, a family member of sorts.
We call it alternatively Aunty and Uncle Mishigami – or Aunty and Uncle Mich for short — and visit regularly. In my husband’s culture, the young call their elders “aunty” and “uncle” as a sign of connection and respect. I imagine that for my daughter, Uncle Mich resembles my brother, the adventure-prone, highly protective, and avid storyteller Uncle Yéyé. Like this relative, Aunty/Uncle Mich possesses both an invigorating and a comforting presence. As you do with family members after you delight in interacting with them for a while, you grow curious about what makes them who they are and how their environment shapes them. You become aware of the mixed projections you cast onto them. They’re still family, but you start bonding with them through something more tangible than ties secured by blood or matrimony. Aunty Mich calls for more than just fun at the beach and the convenience of geographical proximity.
At first, I thought that visiting Uncle Mich in the dead of winter would shed light on a different facet of their personality. I would have them all to myself to enjoy their unadulterated crashing sounds, songs, and whispers.
I was standing by the water’s edge when a black wetsuit and its surfing board landed on the freezing water, inches away from me. Whose death-defying uncle was that? As I photographed the stranger in the wetsuit, I thought of all the ways I was not experiencing or was unwilling to experience Uncle Mich, from grazing the water’s surface in a speedboat to freestyling in pancake ice. I mused on future potential interactions such as scuba diving. Over one hundred WWII-era aircraft lie at the bottom of this lake since Aunty Mich was a little-known safe training space for Navy and Marine Corps pilots. The Navy qualified over 15.000 pilots trained on two former excursion boats turned into makeshift, lake-bound flattops: the USS Wolverine and the USS Sable. I imagine, incredulous, the peculiar sight of the only two American carriers propelled by coal and side-wheels.
Model of the USS Wolverine from the Chicago Maritime Museum
But I think I’ll leave the aircraft to my scuba-diving brother who, unlike me, enjoys everything military. I’m not sure he would take me with him anyway because the last time we dived together, I smiled uncontrollably when we fed sea urchins to a school of fish in the Mediterranean Sea. Because I have good cheeks, my smile caused my ill-adjusted mask to fill up with water. I had to go back to the surface to empty it out. I just could not help myself. But perhaps, we won’t smile so much at the sight of the invasive mussels that can filter the volume of the lake in four to six days and that have dramatically impacted its wildlife.
The one thing I know for sure is that my brother will laugh when I remind him of the only vision of Aunty Mich we were exposed to as children: the 1970s Japanese animated series Candy, Candy. The protagonist spends her childhood in Pony’s Home orphanage at the edge of Lake Michigan in the early 20th century.
This series was hugely popular in the France of our childhood, but in the continental US, Candy Candy was released in video format in 1981. As a consequence, none of my American friends — except those who grew up in Hawaii where they had access to a dedicated Japanese TV station — share my first glimpse of Lake Michigan. This is too bad because they might get a kick out of the establishing opening shot in the pilot episode of Candy, Candy. It opens on a snow-caped view of the shores of Uncle Mich as the narrator sets the scene with this sentence, which I’m translating from the French dubbed version: “Nestled at the foot of a mountain, South of Lake Michigan, lies an old orphanage called Pony’s Home.” A what now? A mountain? When I snorkel in Uncle Mich after reading their vast and dynamic body from the top of the not-so-mountainous Warren Dunes, I confide in them: I did not come here looking for a fantasized mountain village, Lake, America. I made a commitment to learn your histories, but you don’t make that particularly easy, do you? I see makeshift flattops with sidewheels and landing decks too short and narrow where others insist on seeing majestic aircraft carriers. Perhaps, I was expecting a taller version of you, a more inclusive version of you. Some say the personal is political. The personal is a messy, multi-faceted process. It is a conversational process. I too come from a messy land of compromised Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. So, let’s keep talking. I’m listening, Lake. I’m looking.
And the water mixing past, present, fantasized, personal, and incomplete historical faces of the lake fills my mask as I swim back to shore.
Many thanks to those who have made the lake a place of joy over the years: Han, Nina, Peyton, Nathalie, Shayna, Emily, Stéphanie, Benjamin, Margot, Clara and the Park and Magnan families. Many thanks to Kyoko Takanashi for offering her translation of the opening line of the first episode of Candy, Candy in its original (Japanese) version.
First presented as a radio essay on WVPE for Michiana Chronicles. Find all of Anne’s essays on the WVPE website.
We have officially made it to our home stay families. Rhea and I are living with Antonia and Rodolfo. Communication is a bit broken at the moment, but this will be a great way to learn Spanish!
Today we started our Spanish classes as well at the Academia de Nicoya. My teacher, Diego, is very patient and helpful. I think I’ll learn a lot in these classes. After our studies, we ate a delicious buffet lunch at the academy. My favorite part was the meat dish! We then took a walking tour of Nicoya and saw some of the important landmarks, such as the church in the town square.
We had some free time this afternoon to explore the town a bit. A few other students and I walked along the streets and did some shopping. Now, we’re taking a break from the sun in our home stay houses while we wait for dinner. This evening we’ll head back to the academy for Latin dance classes. I look forward to it!
Landing in Poland, I was surprised to learn that during my flight the Russian invasion of the Ukraine had begun.
Ukrainian soldiers cross a destroyed bridge, an image printed in the New York Times “Morning” newsletter March 4 Chris Mcgrath / Getty Images
I had come to Wrocław, Poland to start research for a four-month Fulbright fellowship that had already been delayed one year due to Covid. My project on the first generation of women’s activists in Wrocław between 1880 and 1930 will take me to libraries and archives throughout the region.
At least for now, I feel safe, and Fulbright program staff in Poland have assured us that we should remain in Poland. If things change swiftly, they would be ready to help us, even with an emergency evacuation.
While the crisis has not impacted my personal security, I’m seeing its repercussions around me. My mentor Professor Kamil Kijek here has decided to use part of his sabbatical to assist and has been driving refugees from the border into Silesia. The boarding house where I’m staying now hosts Ukrainian refugees; local colleagues have found work for my Ukrainian housemates and local schools for their children.
The crisis makes quite a contrast between my quiet days and the reality of the invasion of the Ukraine. The Jewish studies department is in an absolutely beautiful, renovated building. The chair of the department Marcin Wodzinski and my mentor Kamil have arranged for a lovely space for me to work.
office where I’m workingthe view from my office windowlooking down the hallway from my office
The library I’ve been working in is stunning, and I sit reading books overlooking the Oder.
Near Wrocław’s beautiful main square are cozy cafes and streets for strolling – I’m partial to a vegetarian restaurant, Vega. Tourists are encouraged to seek out the little dwarves that hide throughout the city.
As I’ve begun to settle in, getting to know colleagues Barbara Pendzich and the wonderfully helpful librarian Monika Jaremków, I’m mindful of the greater challenges to help refugees that they face at the same time as they answer my questions like: where was that beautiful bookstore that we visited on my first day in Wrocław? Can you order this inter-library book for me?
As residents of Wrocław and local businesses do what they can to collect materials for refugees, even making piles of sandwiches for distribution or hosting them in their homes, we too can assist in helping refugees leaving Ukraine. The best way to do that from the US is with donations, and the New York Times has highlighted four charities in particular: Direct Relief, Mercy Corps,International Medical Corps, and Save the Children.
Here is also some advice from that article, “If you decide to donate, specify that your gift go toward the conflict in Ukraine. Otherwise, your money may end up paying for a charity’s general operating expenses.” It is best to try to donate to these or other vetted causes to make sure that your donation goes to those who will do the most good.
As I sign off, I am struck by two different and conflicting emotions – gratitude for the beauty and generosity I am experiencing and grief at the war, so close and yet removed from my daily experience, at least for now.
….As described by IU South Bend student Olivia Brunner.
Today was our first full day in Costa Rica, and we woke up to a typical breakfast of rice and beans. We then went to El Trapiche for a coffee, chocolate, and sugar tour. It was very interesting to see how these products are grown and processed. I really enjoyed the taste tests throughout the tour! Our guide was very knowledgeable and presented a ton of interesting information about the history of coffee, cocoa, and sugar in Costa Rica.
After this tour, we stopped at Gusticos for lunch. Everyone got to try something different and it was great to see the wide variety of delicious dishes! In the afternoon, we had free time and everyone split up into groups for different activities. I went to the orchid garden and learned about many of the native (and beautiful) orchids of Costa Rica. I’m writing this now at the dinner table (at Gusticos again) and look forward to trying patacones. This evening we will go on a night hike where we’ll explore some of the wonderful flora and fauna of Costa Rica.
International Programs 