What's An Uppsala?

62 days and counting until my summer officially begins. On June 21st I head to the airport to start my journey to Stockholm, Sweden. I have been many times before, however this time is different. I plan to spend 9 weeks studying at the Uppsala International Summer Session (UISS) which is 1.5 hours north of the capital. UISS is a unique program designed for international students, ages 18-65, from all over the world to come together and study Swedish language and culture. I am excited to find out who I will meet and from where. I applied last October and almost cried of happiness when I received word of my acceptance.

I will be taking an intensive language course to perfect my Swedish as well as Modern Swedish History. In addition to all my class time and studying, I will be given opportunities to explore a different city other than Stockholm.

The reason I chose Sweden and this program is not just because of my academics but for a much more personal agenda. I am very proud that I have dual citizenship with Sweden and love everything about Sweden. I am very close with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in Sweden and see them as often as we can all make the trip across the Atlantic. So I am going to Uppsala because I want to know everything there is to know about the history and language. I have only gone to Sweden with my family to see my family. I think I will greatly benefit from seeing Sweden from a different perspective- on my own. I will be positively forced to practice my Swedish and test my comfort zones.

The independence I will be given this summer both terrifies and thrills me. I am beside myself with happiness at the prospect.

I will come back after 9 weeks of complete fun just two days before classes start for the fall. I know I will be tired and jetlagged but I also know that my best friends from Wilson will be waiting for me when I walk off the plane to my second home.

Andrea

Reaffirming Work

Firefighting in Buncombe County

At the beginning of the semester I took a Wildland Firefighting course sponsored by Forestry. In the Swannanoa Fire Department I learned how to fight wildfires, which on paper is a great way to boost a resume. The theory behind the class was that when the siren on top of Gladfelter went off three times, there was a wildfire in Buncombe County, and any Wilsonites with a certificate and a pair of good boots could come running to fight a fire. Having committed already to a play and 18 credits of classes, I honestly thought I would never answer the call.

On work day, the fire siren went off. I had a choice – answer the call and miss the communal joys of Work Day, or head off into the scorched earth.

I was part of a three-man crew that fought fires for thirteen hours straight on Work Day. While it may seem like grueling work that tears you down (and indeed it does) it is also the most relaxing and rewarding work I have ever done. Climbing down a mountain to put out spot fires isn’t particularly glamorous, and it is exhausting, but it is simple. You can lose yourself in your work, and spend hours upon hours thinking of only one thing, and everything else – your exams, homework, term papers, arguments, frustrations – simply does not exist.

While patting mud balls onto smoking bits of wood, I found myself wondering where else could I have opportunities like this? Warren Wilson values work – real work that has more meaning than just a dollar value. Firefighting is an experience I never planned to explore before I cam to the Swannanoa, and I am eternally grateful. The thrill of answering the air-raid siren in the middle of a class is like nothing else I have ever known. There is a camaraderie among firefighters that isn’t limited to counties or states. All firefighters have done the same backbreaking work of digging a fire line and smiled through a layer of soot into a smoke-filled sky.

Warren Wilson values work, and this value means more in the adult world than many people realize. Warren Wilson’s work program prepares students to fully commit to their work and earn a place for themselves in whatever career they may choose.

Diana

Ties That Bind

Junior Rachel Rasmussen is spending a semester with Warren Wilson’s newest exchange partner, the Universidad de Oriente in Valladolid, Mexico, where is she taking courses in linguistics, Mayan culture and culinary arts. Rachel and her host family recently visited the Mayan ruins of Ek Balam. Valladolid is an important center for contemporary Mayan culture, and the Universidad de Oriente offers Mayan studies as one of its major focuses, as well as linguistics, education, sustainable tourism and gastronomy. By equipping its graduates with practical as well as academic knowledge, UNO hopes to generate more local employment and opportunities for young adults in the Yucatan region. Rachel writes:

"After two months of studying in the Yucatan, I finally feel less like the funny-looking new kid and more like I actually live here. I´ve noticed a difference in other people, too: less awkward stares, less taxi drivers mistaking me for a tourist, and less people not understanding my Spanish. Now, I can confidently make my way around town, have substantial conversations with my host family and teachers, and even get some of the jokes my classmates make (though often when I try to make jokes of my own, I wind up having to re-explain myself and the joke tends to get lost in translation). Being the only non-Mexican student at a small university of 600 seemed like it would be a daunting task, but I have a great support group of teachers, students, and host family. I'm actually glad I´m not here with a large group of Americans, because total immersion is helping me dig deeper into this unique culture.

And it really is a neat cultural blend of Mayan tradition, modern Mexico, and the odd pop-culture references from the US (think Lady Gaga and Britney Spears). In my Mayan culture classes, we take on these topics of `living in two worlds´ and what it means to be a young person with Mayan heritage living in `the modern world´. We wonder about the complexities of Mayan philosophy, analyze how Spanish colonialism has influenced traditional Mayan beliefs, listen to stories of Mayan mythology, and even contemplate about the astronomical meanings of 2012...no worries, it doesn´t predict the world will end.

So yes, a lot of things are definitely different here-they speak Spanish everywhere, nobody lives in a dorm, I drink bottled water, I spend much more of my time in class and much less doing homework. And there´s certainly familiarities and people that I miss at Warren Wilson. But in the end, one of the biggest similarities I find between my life in the Yucatan and my life in Carolina is in the quality of the people and the opportunities to connect with their stories."

Hey, warm those hands lady!

Saturday I decided to try something new… milk a cow. I have quite a few friends on the Farm Crew, so I thought it would be fun to tag along with Alice on her Saturday morning milking. Why not? It’s not like every college student has opportunities such as these. I had it all planned out. I borrowed muck boots from another friend on the farm and knew to meet up with Alice at promptly 7am. I woke up before the sun rose and dressed warmly for it snowing and cold.

It was beautiful walking down to the farm with snow flakes being illuminated by all the light posts. As we walked past all of the dorms I knew that everyone was still sleeping bundled up in their beds. We finally made it to the farm and took off a couple layers because being so close to Katie, our milking cow, would get warm.

First we had to clean Katie’s udder and underside completely before we began our milking. Once that was complete, we set up two stools on either side and started milking. It was so much harder then I would have ever imagined. I was “in charge” of one teat and struggled to get any milk to come out. It was not until after Alice had finished her 2 teats that I eventually got into a rhythm. Afterward we brought our pale into the farm shop and filtered it into 2 large mason jars. Ready for consumption.

I am just so happy that I got to have the experience of milking Katie. I continued my day with making muffins for breakfast with Katie’s milk, which were delicious. Then I was back to the grind stone with homework for the rest of the afternoon.

This past Sunday I also decided to try something new again…bake bread. I realize that many people bake bread all the time; however I have never done such a thing. I found a recipe online, bought some yeast and ingredients, and proceeded to go to the kitchen and figure it out. Luckily someone was in the kitchen at the same time who makes bread often and was willing to show me a few tricks when it came to kneading. However, other then that I did it. It was so gratifying after 2.5 hours to pull two large rounded loaves of bread out of the oven. It tasted so good to eat something that I made myself.

So this has been a couple weeks of new experiences that are just two more reasons why I love Warren Wilson.

Andrea

How Green Is My Valley

As a Warren Wilson student, I was given the opportunity to apply for the Irish-American Scholars program, which exchanges students from universities in the US and Northern Ireland. Now fully into my sixth month at the University of Ulster in Coleraine, I can finally say that I am undeniably homesick.

Don't get me wrong--I love Northern Ireland. The people here are ridiculously nice, and I'm surrounded by incredibly beauty (that photo is from my bedroom window!). I've met some amazing people here that have challenged my conceptions about identity, culture, and lifestyle. I have plenty of leisure time, and I've travelled about the British Isles extensively and have plans to go further. I've still got some money in the bank from summer work and I can walk to the local pub whenever I want.

But, and this is the life-altering bit--it's not Wilson. My favorite flannel, stolen from my father in high school, still gets lumberjack jokes. I haven't found a piece of kale YET. For what is not the first time in my life, I am the hippie weirdo that thinks too hard about food, empathizes with cows, rabidly recycles, does not own a proper "party dress," and aches to work.

Writing an email to my WWC international studies advisor (who happens to be married to my academic advisor, making communication between all of us a breeze), I had a realization: my culture shocks did not come mostly from a change in currency, weather, lifestyle, food, or ideology. My time at Wilson has made those differences seem so superficial that the switch has been at times comical but never overwhelming. Truly, my culture shock comes from leaving Wilson and attending a big, "real" University. I get lost in the crowds and lost in the hallways. I pay for coffee at a coffee shop, and I cook by myself in my flat. Failing a year means a tuition-free do-over year, so there's really no incentive to pass. In my massive 40-person lectures (in a legitimate lecture hall!!) half the students are texting, a fair proportion are on Facebook, and the others look like they want to die. I am forced to make way too much awkward eye contact with the lecturer because I am the only person making an effort to express interest.

This is not to say that Wilson lectures don't ever include someone dozing off or not paying attention, or heaven forbid, not attending. Sure, that happens in any classroom. But overall, my classes at Wilson have been stimulating, precisely because the students care about the topics, and therefore the professor cares. I have sat outside Carson many a time and continued a discussion carried over from class that made me late for lunch. I bring up readings with my friends because they made me see the world in a slightly different way. There is a conscious effort in so many Wilson situations to make the material applicable to life, integrating experiences and seeing the interconnectedness of everything you do. Your social life melts into your work life, which informs your academics, which stimulates service, which creates your dreams. If you don't care about what you're learning...you leave. You go somewhere else, do something else, try something else.

So, here I am, in the midst of what is supposed to be the Time of My Life, pining away for a little piece of land across the ocean and feeling pretty silly about it all. I know that time passes oh-so-quickly, and as much as I try to live in the moment and learn from the here and now, I can't help but know that Wilson is where I belong, and I look forward to my homecoming.

Michelle

The Christmas Truce of 1914

By Paul J. Magnarella

Although World War I ranks as one of the most horrific in history, causing about 40 million casualties and up to 20 million military and civilian deaths, it also included a famous and spontaneous peaceful interlude inscribed in chronicles as the unofficial Christmas Truce of 1914.

World War I The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, by a Bosnian Serb in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914, plunged much of Europe into war. The Entente Powers of France, Russia and Britain stood against the Central Powers of the Austro-Hungarian, German, and Ottoman Empires. In mid-September, the German, British and French commands ordered their armies to entrench along a 475 mile Western Front that extended from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier. Four years of brutal, stalemated trench warfare followed. Most trenches were about seven feet deep and six feet wide topped by a parapet of sandbags. From there barbed wire entanglements extended into No-Man’s land. In many places the No-Man’s Land separating German and British front-line trenches was only 30 to 70 yards wide.

The elements were sometimes more debilitating than the enemy. Standing in the mud and water for days often resulted in feet becoming gangrenous. Excessive exposure to wet and cold caused nephritis, which affected the kidneys. The accumulated rubbish, urine, and excreta in the trenches negatively impacted on health. Food scraps and decaying corpses attracted huge numbers of disease-carrying rats. The unwashed men attracted lice that covered their bodies with bite marks and caused “trench fever.” Artillery bursts caused some men to experience shell shock.

Periodically, the aristocratic generals (safely lodged in the rear) ordered the mostly lower class men in the trenches to make suicidal frontal assaults on enemy trenches. Machine guns and rapid fire rifles simply mowed down attacking men in No-Man’s Land, where their bodies often remained for weeks in a decaying state. The generals never devised a sensible plan to break the cruel stalemate that trench warfare became.

On Christmas Eve the weather cleared. Rain gave way to a clear cold that froze the mud and water, making movement easier and boots and clothing drier. Having received gift packages from home, the men of both sides were in a festive mood. That evening, along the front-line, German troops sang Christmas carols. Many erected candle-lit Christmas trees on their parapets and called out season’s greetings to their enemies opposite them.

Many Entente troops responded with applause, holiday wishes, and songs of their own. Concerned, one British battalion command informed Brigade Headquarters: “Germans have illuminated their trenches, are singing songs, and are wishing us a Happy Xmas. Compliments are being exchanged, but [I] am nevertheless taking all military precautions...”

Then, an amazing series of events occurred. Along parts of the British, French and Belgian lines, men from both sides went out into No-Man’s Land unarmed to meet, shake hands and fraternize. The First Battalion Royal Irish Rifles reported Germans calling out: “If you Englishmen come out and talk to us, we won’t fire.”

Scotsmen in Flanders, the 2nd Queen’s Battalion near La Chapelle d’Armentieres, and the 2nd Battalion Royal Welch Fusiliers also reported Germans singing Stille Nacht [Silent Night] and extending invitations to meet in No Man’s Land.

Christmas Day
On the morning of 25 December, the 2nd Battalion Devons reported seeing the Germans hoist a board with the words “You no fight, we no fight.” Opposite the 2nd Battalion Border Regiment, the process began with a German officer emerging from his trench waving a white flag. The 2nd Battalion Wiltshires reported men on both sides waving to each other, and then going out into No-Man’s Land to meet unarmed. After initial greetings both sides agreed to bury their dead comrades who had been laying in No-Man’s Land for weeks. Some Germans and British worked together in burial parties; a British soldier described a joint funeral service as “a sight one will never forget!” Members of the British Rifle Brigade gave the Germans wooden crosses to mark their graves.

The opposing sides exchanged food, drink, cigarettes, photographs, addresses and sincere wishes for peace. A British officer found the scene “absolutely astounding!” The troops found each other to be quite likeable. Many men felt compelled to write home about their experience. A London Rifles Brigade officer: “They [Germans] were really magnificent in the whole thing....I now have a very different opinion of the Germans.” A Scots Guard: “Some of them are very nice fellows and did not show any hatred, which makes me think they are forced to fight.”

Once No-Man’s Land had been cleared of corpses, some men found areas suitable for soccer games with improvised balls. In places, British and Germans ate Christmas dinner together, sharing whatever they had. They entertained each other with singing and instrumental music.

How It Ended
Many who participated in an informal truce hoped to continue it until New Year’s Day or beyond. But the High Commands sternly objected. A German army order dated threatened that fraternization with the enemy would be punished as high treason. A British order warned that “Officers and NCOs allowing [fraternization] would be brought before a court martial.”

In late December the High Commands ordered artillery bombardments along the front. They did the same in following years to ensure that the 1914 Christmas truce would not be repeated. Despite these measures, a few friendly encounters did occur, but on a much smaller scale than in 1914.

Soldiers Express Themselves
The Christmas truce touched the men deeply as evidenced in their letters and diaries. Various British soldiers wrote the following: “The most wonderful day on record!” “The most extraordinary celebration of Christmas any of us will ever experience!” “This experience has been the most practical demonstration I have seen of Peace on earth and goodwill towards men.” German troops wrote: “The way we spend Christmas in the trenches sounds almost like a fairy tale.” “It was a Christmas celebration in keeping with the command ‘Peace on earth’ and a memory which will stay with us always.” “Probably the most extraordinary event of the whole year—a soldier’s truce without any higher sanction by officers or generals.”

Speaking in the House of Commons in 1930, Sir H. Kingsley Wood, a former major who had served at the front in 1914 stated: “If we had been left to ourselves there would never have been another shot fired. …it was only the fact that we were being controlled by others that made it necessary for us to start trying to shoot one another again.”

Today, the Christmas Truce of 1914 is regarded as evidence of men’s natural desire for peace and friendship, even in the context of a brutal and senseless conflict. However, the 1914 Christmas Truce is not unique in history. During the early 19th century Peninsula War, British and French soldiers at times visited each other, shared rations and played cards. Periodically during the 1854-56 Crimean War French, British and Russian troops gathered around the same fire to smoke and drink together.

In the American Civil War (1861-65) Yankees and Rebels traded coffee and tobacco and peacefully fished from opposite sides of the same rivers. Throughout history, it has been rare for men fighting at close quarters not to extend friendly gestures and establish informal truces with their enemies.

Paul J. Magnarella is Director of Peace and Justice Studies, Warren Wilson College.

This commentary was distributed by PeaceVoice, a program of the Oregon Peace Institute.

Let It Snow...

Thursday morning dawned clear but by lunch we were hearing the dire warnings of incoming snow. Thursday night it began to snow, and snow, and snow. Friday morning, students began to worry whether they would be able to get off campus. The snow had started accumulating and the roads were turning to ice. As I sat in the kitchen on my dorm on campus making tea, one of my friends ran in and tossed her key to me while quickly retreating out the door explaining that she needed to leave to beat the snow and I would just have to transfer her fish and her guinea pig, which I had agreed to take care of for break, myself. I had just enough time to wish her luck on her journey before she was gone. By noon, all the campus shuttles to the airport had been cancelled for safety reasons and all of Asheville’s taxis had stopped running. Pretty much everyone left on campus was stuck there at least for the night. At 7:00 Friday night, I was just finished baking vegan chocolate peanut butter balls when I peeked outside to discover that close to a foot of snow had fallen. Knowing that at least one of my friends had not made it off campus, I wrapped up a couple of the warm cookies, put on my boots, coat, gloves and hat, and headed out into the still falling snow.

Through the snow, I could just make out a six-foot tall snowperson gracing courtyard as I walked to the Wellness dorm. Once inside, I began to strip off layers before climbing the stairs to my friend’s room. When I know she invited me inside where I discovered not only her, but three other friends. After a brief discussion of some activities we could do that night, we went down into the common room to make some hot chocolate before heading back up to her room to cuddle together and watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Two hours, and a few tears later, my friends offered to walk me back to my room.

We all bundled up again and headed out into the snow. Almost immediately we all stopped, and after a few moments of joy declared that nothing is as beautiful as Warren Wilson in the snow (except maybe Warren Wilson in the spring). Unable to stand the idea of going back inside, we decided to take a walk. As we walked, we heard cheers coming from a nearby hill, one of the steepest on campus, and it did not take long to figure out that it was a group of people with improvised sleds. We climbed the hill, slipping on the snow and ice, dodging a couple of students as they came down, and finally made it to the top. There we found about fifteen people, a mix of foreign students and at least one person from each year, with a variety of boxes, tub lids, and other items which they we zooming down the hill on screaming the whole way. We laughed as we watched a couple of students set off down the hill, hitting a snow bank and doing a 360 before continuing down. After half and hour of fun, and a couple of trips down the hill, we realized it was getting close to 11:00 and we needed to go to bed. As we gingerly walked down the hill, we ran into one of the biology professors carrying his guitar and with him his wife. They had been singing and playing guitar on one of the pastures before realizing how late it was.

When I got home, I collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up in the morning, it was still snowing and it became apparent that no one would be leaving Saturday either. Cars littered the sides of Warren Wilson Road. The only vehicle that seemed to be able to get traction was a huge tractor, driven by a student, which was working to clear the roads of snow. It wasn’t until Sunday that the roads were clear enough for the shuttles to start running again and for students to drive home. Finally, on Monday morning, the campus was as quiet as it usually is during the first week of winter break. I headed down to recycling where I am working half the week for the next two weeks to start digging out our trash pick up trucks. Smiling, I picked up a snow shovel and started winter break for real.

Victoria

Aaah

Another Semester Has Come and Gone

Aaah. The semester has unfolded as usual. December has come and another glorious semester is coming to a conclusion. Each semester is different and precious in its own way. Every semester, students are challenged with new and invigorating classes, off-the-wall service projects that help improve the life of someone else and work crews that may be a repeat from the semester before or a new one in order to explore a variety of jobs before graduation. Students work from sun up to sundown, writing lab reports, conducting research, serving food in the cafeteria, tutoring elementary school children, volunteering at food banks, tending to the cows and working with prospective students that we encourage to come to our school. When the semester unwinds to a slow and gradual stop, we can look back at the laughter, the tears, the enjoyments and the fond memories.

As for me, I rose every morning before eight. Shutting off my alarm clock and ridding myself of its siren-like blare, I would rub the sleep from my eyes and go about my day. After falling asleep twice in the bathroom, I would pull myself together and start my day. The mornings would open with a run to Gladfelter where I would receive a smiling welcome from the student serving food. I would then receive my gleaming bagel, rounder than any circle that any mathematician could ever draw. Then I would load up on cream cheese and gulp down a tall glass of skim milk.

The morning would then lead to classes where we had Socratic discussions and contemplated the eccentricities and complexities of this great world. Then it was off to Cowpie for lunch to see what food chocked full of life force vegetarian goodness the students had whipped together that day. The afternoon consisted of glorious hours in the Admission Office. There were of course the data entries, the appointment scheduling and the tours. But what I really loved was the mailing. Peeling the labels and placing them ever so delicately on the brochure. Stuffing envelopes with beautiful radiant green booklets, knowing that an excited prospective student would receive them. The sense of accomplishment that crosses the mind after having just finished taping 312 brochures. The wonderful feeling of diligence.

As the semester reaches the final stretch, I know I can speak for many when I say that another semester at Warren Wilson truly builds character. It would be a lie to say that it is not stressful. There’s homework, demanding jobs and service obligations. Time management is crucial. But when you stop and think about it, the days we spend balancing our life on this lovely campus with its majestic mountains, really are the best times of our lives.

Sarah

Rite of Passage

At the end of last year, I remember hearing all the upperclassmen share how towards the end of summer you would grow antsy to get back to Wilson. I can now attest to this feeling with personal experience. I was so excited to go home to Upstate New York for the summer, to see family and friends, and to take a break from school work. But as soon as I bought my ticket back to the mountainous Swannanoa, I began to feel anxious to see my friends and just be on campus.

After getting up at three in the morning to catch my flight and spending all day in airports, it was so comforting to come around the corner and see the famous red barn in the field with the large WWC in white. I then carried my heavy suitcases into my new home of Ballfield B, to bump into one of my best friends. There was a sigh of relief. It felt so right to be back, and after one day I felt like I had never left.

All summer I answered the question of, “How was your first year at school?” I always felt I wasn’t doing Wilson justice with my response of “amazing.” However, I never could think of a way to show everyone how much I’ve grown and all the experiences I’ve had since moving away from home. I have truly grown as a person, from doing my own laundry when the bin is full to experiences which have given me a different outlook on the world.

I am now comfortably in a routine, which consists of classes, work, study, meals in Cowpie with friends, more studying, and tea time in the late evenings to wind down, before more studying. It was unbelievably nice to fall back into my typical duties on the Admission Crew, answering the phone, giving tours, and catching up. However I know friends who switched from working in the Work Program Office to Farm Crew and from Admission to Plumbing. To hear their new stories of learning something new has been great!

All in all it is “amazing” to be back! And I will always consider Wilson as a home away from home.

Andrea

Days of Our Lives

7:00am
Wake up and get ready for the day


7:30
Walk to breakfast and take in the beautiful Valley


8:00
Lifestyles of Nonviolence class


9:30
Go down to the river to collect and identify arthropods during Field and Natural History class


11:00
East Asian Civilizations class


12:30
Lunch at Cowpie, the vegan café while listening to the old-time string band


1:00
Work at the Office of Admission- entering data, giving tours, and talking on the phone


5:00
Make dinner in the kitchen with the folks in my dorm


6:00
Attend a movie viewing for my US History from 1945 course


7:30
Take a short hike on campus


8:30
Homework and Studying


11:00pm
Fall asleep while watching the “Planet Earth” series

Cait