The Claremont Globetrotter
Office of Off-Campus study
Volume 4, Issue 1: Fall 2012
Editor: Catherine Raney ‘13
Featuring Stories and Photos from Students in
Madagascar, Chile and Argentina and a Professor’s
Perspective on Studying Abroad
INSIDE THIS ISSUE
Reality in Madagascar
1
By Nora Studholme ‘14
Spectacle: A Soccer Match in Chile 2
By Luke Mayer ‘14
Seeking Adventures Abroad
3
By Professor Crockett, Ph. D.
Urban Adventures in Buenos Aires 5
By Victoria Nichols ‘14
Learning traditional Tandroy dance in Madagascar
Nora Studholme ’14
PAGE 1
The Claremont Globetrotter
Reality in Madagascar
By Nora Studholme ‘14
SIT Madagascar: Biodiversity and Natural Resource
Management (Fall 2012)
Sometimes, you forget where you are. You walk the streets
with your mind wrapped up in the same old things: school work,
what you are going to eat when you get home, what you are going to
do tomorrow and when you can sneak off to the beach. Then, something happens that reminds you: you are here. In Madagascar. In one
of the poorest regions in one of the poorest nations on earth. One
day, it is a dead puppy on the side of the road, its lolling tongue
thickened and blackened by death and its still-fluffy fur swarming
with flies that gather in macabre delight. The next day, it is a young
woman with a strong, lovely face shuffling along on her knees. What
is she doing, you think, too wrapped up in the alternative reality of
your own mind to pay much attention, doesn’t she know she’s too
old for that kind of game? Then, as you pass, you turn your head and
see: the pants past her lower calves drag along loosely behind her,
dragging bits of discarded
food and trash on their
fringes. As she looks up at
you, her face so much like
your own, you realize she is
not playing a game. She has
no feet. And never will. A
blazing glance from her eyes
and she is gone.
And you are there,
returned from what you
briefly believed to be important thoughts. Back to the
real reality. The reality that,
while you were daydreaming,
the little boy you passed with
hardly a glance, the one with
the ballcap and the seriVillage Grandmother cooking rice
ous, sharp eyes has stolen
your camera right out of
your purse.
But reality is also beautiful. It is a “Reality is also
beautiful.”
lemur peering down from a fog-draped
tree, white whiskers jutting dramatically
from his serious black face. It is a smiling taxi driver giving me back
1,000 Ariary when I accidentally try to pay him double, a man selling bananas at the market spends a good 5 minutes making sure that
I take a whole bunch for 500 AR instead of just one like I was mistakenly trying to do (500 AR is about 2 cents). It is finding a coconut
on the beach, smashing it open, and sharing the shards with a gaggle
of shirtless children who shriek in the waves.
Nora rests a jug of water on her head after retrieving it from the well
and carrying it for 4 kilometers
Watching the sun rise on a pooling river of mist
that snakes its way through the crevices of the junglecovered mountains, I realize there is as much beauty as
pain in every country, in every culture, perhaps in every
individual heart. The young boy with my camera may be
trying to feed his family or buy medicine for someone he
loves. The man in the taxi is being kind to me, perhaps
because he has a daughter my age. In the end, all these
different faces that we rush past in the streets or in the
paths of the countryside have one thing in common: they
all love something.
I will sleep on the patio under the draping bouganvelia and wake up in this new wonderful world.
Traditional Tandroy house that Nora lived in for a week
PAGE 2
T HE C LAREMONT G LOBETROTTER
S PECTACLE : A S OCCER M ATCH
IN
C HILE
B Y L UKE M AYER ‘14
IES—S ANTIAGO , C HILE ( FALL 2012)
The Recopa Sudamericana pits the champions of the
two most prestigious professional club leagues in South
America against each other in a 2-game continental championship. This year, Chile’s U. de Chile faced off against Brazil’s Santos club for the first leg of the championship in what
was billed as the biggest match ever to be played in Santiago.
It was a good game between two talented clubs, and in the
end they played to a 0-0 tie—a frustrating result for sure, but
there was enough excitement on the field to make up for any
disappointment.
Not to diminish the play of the two sides at all, but
the crowd completely stole the show. Despite miserable 40degree weather and a constant, soaking rain, fans turned up in
droves 2 hours before the game to find their seats and begin
rallying behind their team. The craziest hooligans, the ringleaders of the crowd sat in the section just behind the nearest
net where they put on a show for the entire night. About an
hour before kickoff they began by shouting the first chant-like
line of the U. de Chile fight song, pausing, and then picking up
with the thunderous echo from the rest of the stadium. From
80-year-old men to 7-year-old girls, almost every fan in the
place raucously sang every word to every song, clapping and
stomping along, not giving a single thought to the miserable
conditions. An hour (and an impressive number of distinct
songs) later, the Santos side took the field to a deafening wolfwhistle serenade. The combined effect of 40,000 jeering fans
whistling together was absolutely overwhelming. The whistles kept up, losing no intensity for 15 solid minutes until the
home squad appeared in the mouth of the tunnel. That moment of their arrival will
probably remain the most
incredible sports spectacle I “That moment of their
arrival will probably
have ever witnessed.
remain the most inTo preface the
story, I just want to men- credible sports spectation that I was patted down cle I have ever witno less than four times be- nessed.”
tween getting off the bus at
the stadium and actually arriving at my seat. Security thought
I might have hidden a lighter in my camera case, so I had to
unzip every pocket before they let me pass. What happened
next would make their concern over a lighter feel comically
trivial.
Yet when the U. Chile side took the field, along
with an explosion of confetti, a storm of streamers and a
deafening song, dozens and dozens of flares lit up along the
restraining wall around the field, pouring out smoke and
glowing angrily in the haze. As the team got to the field
and turned to salute the crowd, the fireworks began. Fans
pulled the long cardboard tubes seemingly out of nowhere
and began what felt like a bombardment, with rattling
thumps reverberating though the stadium every couple
seconds. To add to the chaos, of course there were misfires
as some of the rockets shot up into the upper levels of the
stadium before exploding, or simply went up 10 feet,
stalled, and then exploded in the faces of the launchers. It
was complete chaos, but somehow it felt fitting, as the
fight songs never faltered, and the police around the field
didn’t even blink.
The craziness kept up for the whole game, songs
echoing back and forth, flares burning on, and fireworks
occasionally shaking your bones. It was the most incredible
sporting atmosphere I’ve ever been a part of, making the
crowd of the notorious Oakland Coliseum in the midst of a
Patriots game feel like a JV field hockey crowd. I feel bad
taking anything away from the squad itself, but to me—the
fact that the U. Chile club has lost only once in its last 42
games at the “U” (the national stadium in Santiago) is testament to the intensity and intimidation of the home crowd.
I can’t wait to get back for my next game.
T HE C LAREMONT G LOBETROTTER
PAGE 3
Seeking Adventures Abroad
By Christine Crockett, Ph.D.
Associate Director of the Center for Writing and Public Discourse
Visiting Assistant Professor of Literature
Claremont McKenna College
As I walked into our family kitchen, champagne in hand, I
caught a brief glimpse of Big Ben on the television, its tell-tale chimes
pealing out over an illuminated London. As the scene shifted over to a
view of the Thames, the news anchor’s voice declared, “It is now the
year 2000 in London.” My mother, who was busily cooking up a traditional Cuban lechon, or roasted pig, for our New Year’s dinner, said
softly, “Mija, why do you have to leave us for that cold country? What
will you eat? I hear the people are not friendly. What will you do if you
get sick?”
My experience studying and living abroad
fundamentally reshaped me for the better. I was
transformed from a timid and relatively quiet
young woman who feared change and who had
never travelled outside of the States into an individual who could speak up for herself and who could
adapt to challenging or unfamiliar situations. I
learned to be tenacious, a characteristic that sustained me as I struggled through graduate school; I
learned to be brave, a quality that enabled me to
present my research at international conferences;
and I learned how and when to let go, an ability
that is just as invaluable in the college classroom as
it is at home. I also, most importantly, learned to
have faith in myself and to trust in the decisions I
had to make in order to become a college professor.
Like Catherine Morland, the
I was transformed from protagonist of Northanger Abbey,
my arrival in England was relaa timid and relatively
tively uneventful. During my
quiet young woman
home stay I was treated to fish
who feared change and and chips, shepherd’s pie, Sunwho had never travelled day roasts, Cornish pasties and
outside of the States into lots of Cornish ice cream. My
an individual who could host-mother took me on trips to
speak up for herself and a teapot museum (which was full
of – surprise! - teapots), to the
who could adapt to
challenging or unfamil- local pub (the Lamb and Flag)
and to Lyme Regis, the small
iar situations.
seaside town that housed Austen
for a time and which was the
setting for part of her novel Persuasion. My final
destination was Bristol University. The city of
Bristol remains a large urban center, but not nearly
as sprawling as “the great smoke” of London. During the eighteenth century, the port city of Bristol
had been a center for trade, and it therefore
boasted a rich cultural history related to the era I
wanted to study. London was just a short train ride
away, a quick coach ride would take me to the inspiring Cornish coast, and I was situated within the
beautiful south west countryside which boasted,
among other things, the world-famous Stonehenge.
More importantly, Bristol was the closest I could
come to the cities of Bath and Winchester, where
Austen had lived, written, and eventually died. I
was, in other words, located in the heart of Austendom in the U.K. – it was heavenly.
Professor Crockett in front of Big Ben and Parliament
Within a matter of days I would arrive in London,
eager to see the storied sights that my imagination had called
up since first I read Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and The
Chronicles of Narnia as a young child. It was the spring semester of my junior year and, having recently declared myself a
Literature/History major, I felt that my education would be
incomplete without the requisite journey to the country that
had birthed and nurtured my most beloved authors. Deep
down, I also knew that, as nervous as I was about living in an
entirely different country, I needed to seek out adventures
far from the comforting folds of CMC in order to grow up
and grow into myself. As the narrator of Jane Austen’s
novel Northanger Abbey so aptly puts it, “if adventures will
not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek
them abroad.”
Page 4
T HE C LAREMONT G LOBETROTTER
It quickly became clear to me, however, that the stability I had felt during orientation week and my home stay was
temporary in nature. One dreary, grey afternoon, I was dropped off, heavy luggage in hand, at a residence hall that housed native British students. I was two miles from the University and, I realized with growing horror, none of my American friends
from the study abroad program were coming with me. In fact, I would be the only American living in my particular hall. At
first, I was terrified. How would I find my way around this strange new city? Where would I attend classes? Would I make
friends with the students who lived in my hall? I managed to drag my luggage up to my small third-story room and took stock
of my surroundings. Overcoming my initial trepidation, I took a deep, shaky breath and walked into the nearest open room.
In it a group of students huddled closely together, peering at a small television set that was airing the newest episode of East
Enders. I opened my mouth to speak, squeaked out a question that had something to do with the nearest bus stop, and was immediately interrupted by one particularly outspoken young woman who declared that I must be “their new American.” I nodded, sheepishly, and was instantly bombarded with helpful offers to show me around and questions regarding my home and life
experiences.
To this day, my English friends laugh about how overwhelmed I must have been by their collective enthusiasm during
my first evening in the hall. I have always insisted that, on the contrary, their energy and unequivocal acceptance taught me
that I needn’t be frightened of the strange, new places I would visit, nor of the delightful and quirky people I would meet there.
I came to understand that by maintaining an open mind, cultivating a taste for adventure, and fostering a willingness to connect
with others I could be at home just about anywhere in the world. My travels in the U.K. and on the continent likewise taught
me how to make mistakes and how to survive them, when to speak up and when to listen respectfully, and how (or whether) to
trust a complete stranger. Like Austen’s heroine Catherine, I often panicked, but I eventually grew into a better understanding
of myself, of the kind of person I wanted to become, and the kinds of adventures it would take to get there.
Professor Crockett with her English friends from the Third Floor
PAGE 5
T HE C LAREMONT G LOBETROTTER
U RBAN A DVENTURES
IN B UENOS A IRES
B Y V ICTORIA N ICHOLS ‘14
IES – B UENOS A IRES , A RGENTINA (F ALL 2012)
Top: Russian Orthodox Church in San Telmo, Buenos
Aires (Iglesia Apostolica Orthodoxa Rusa)
Bottom: San Martin Monument in La Boca
Victoria and her dad practice the Tango in a neighborhood of Buenos Aires called La Boca!
Page 6
T HE C LAREMONT G LOBETROTTER
PAGE 3
Top: Inside Teatro Colón
Left: A picture of Victoria and her housemate
rollerblading around Palermo Park. Photo by
Markea Dickinson
Bottom: Recoleta Cemetery in Recoleta, where
the elite people of Buenos Aires are buried
For more information on study
abroad, please contact:
Office of Off-Campus Study
Heggblade Center
850 Columbia Avenue
Claremont, CA 91711
(909) 621-8267
fax: (909) 607-8690
studyabroad@cmc.edu