Blog Post #2 - Macy Bayer - Expanding Worldview

        I often play the 70s hit “Free Man in Paris” by Joni Mitchell during my DJ shift at KTCU 88.7 FM not just because it is a great song, but because I love telling the story of my first experience in Paris while on air. After flying into Heathrow Airport and taking the “underwater” train into Paris, which to my surprise was not like SeaWorld, we arrived at the train station ready to take the metro to our hotel. Safe to say, it was the first and last time we took the Paris Metro.

        Despite my 104-day Duolingo streak in French, the language barrier was quite shocking, and it did not make it any better that my dad greeted the woman working the ticket counter with a “howdy.” After getting our tickets, we made our way down the stairs and got ready to board the incoming train. My family, not knowing how quickly you must board the train, all filed in before my dad attempted to whisk himself onto the train. My heart dropped when I turned back to see if he had made it on and saw the door slam shut between his back and backpack. The shock alone was enough to make me want to hop right back on a plane to America. What was even more surprising was that nobody else on the train blinked an eye.

        Nobody blinked an eye except for the middle-aged man who pulled my dad out of the doorway. It was the beginning of a trip across Europe that changed the way I view the world and the way I approach public transportation with more assertiveness. During that trip, I explored my way through Dublin in the drizzly rain, walked up and down the Royal Mile while filling up on haggis in Edinburgh, and finished the trip stuffed on chocolate-covered strawberries from Borough Market and a bit disappointed after a failed Wimbledon attempt in London.

        At the time, I did not pay much attention to the sustainability practices of each country, but I did pick up on the varying cultures and ways of life in each city. In Paris, the Parisians seemed to embody tough love, or maybe they were just tough. Despite this, the city was gorgeous and full of sights to see. The outdoor cafés were always packed with people, and the Seine was lined with individuals simply enjoying themselves with seemingly nowhere to be and no agenda to follow. In Dublin, I am not sure how many locals I actually observed since it is such a major tourist destination, but I loved the camaraderie and excitement of pub culture. I also enjoyed visiting the Book of Kells at Trinity College Dublin and trying what I would say is the best ice cream in the world, Murphy's Ice Cream. Sorry, Zanoni & Zanoni.

        This trip marked my first time traveling outside of the United States, and shortly thereafter I caught the travel bug. I visited Germany for the first time during spring break of my first year at TCU where I explored Berlin. During that trip, I made the decision to step out of my comfort zone and study abroad in St. Andrews for three weeks during the summer. Summer came quickly, and before I knew it, it was time to embark on my first solo travel experience to learn more about Scotland’s history.

        I had previously taken a day trip to St. Andrews while visiting Edinburgh with my family the summer before, so I felt comfortable exploring from day one. St. Andrews was an absolutely gorgeous town situated along the coast with greenery, pubs galore, and the perfect mix of local charm and tourist appeal. The people were also extremely friendly. I went to a ceilidh alone and ended the night with newfound friends. Even in the dining hall at the dorm, I struck up a conversation with one of the cooks, Gwen, and instantly made a friend. It felt like Southern hospitality, but Scottish. Of course, I also indulged in ice cream from Jannetta’s Gelateria, the second-best ice cream in the world. Again, my apologies to Zanoni & Zanoni.

        Studying in St. Andrews also allowed me to view the town through a completely different lens than when I visited as a tourist the previous summer. I quickly realized that the town revolves around two things, golf and college life. Golf originated in St. Andrews in the early 15th century, and during a walking tour of St. Andrews Castle led by our professors, one tidbit in particular stuck with me. In 1457, King James II outlawed the sport because citizens were prioritizing golf over mandatory archery practice, which was deemed essential for national defense against potential English invasions. Founded in the 15th century, the University of St. Andrews is rich in history as the oldest university in Scotland and the third-oldest university in the English-speaking world behind Oxford and Cambridge. There was something surreal about learning in the same small town that once hosted students centuries ago.

        Sometimes you know you belong in a city because of a small sign. My sign came from a pair of sunglasses in a boutique and café called Spoiled Life. I rarely wore sunglasses or owned a pair that was not passed down from my mother, so when I saw a gorgeous tortoise pair sitting on the shelf, I immediately picked them up. After putting them on, I instantly fell in love with them. They fit my face perfectly, which is a rarity for me. As I took them off and began folding the temple pieces inward, I froze. Inscribed inside the glasses was the name “Macy.” It was kismet. My only complaint about St Andrews was the aggressive seagulls who, unfortunately, are not afraid to take what they want. There are still two sandwiches I desperately want to try, but unfortunately, I never had the chance before they were snatched right out of my hands.

        This past spring break, I had the opportunity to study abroad in Madrid. Of course, I noticed the late dining culture, which I only fully participated in once. There were certainly no early bird specials in Madrid. While I did not notice many shops closing in the middle of the day, I was taken aback by how late restaurants and stores stayed open, especially along Calle Mayor. I only noticed one shop closed during the middle of the day, and it was not for a siesta, but for prayer. After days of visiting the 400-year-old monastery, I finally visited the cloistered nuns of Monasterio del Corpus Christi on the day they were selling cookies. Were they the best cookies I have ever had? No. But was it a once-in-a-lifetime experience to buy cookies from nuns? Absolutely. During a day trip to Toledo, I learned that it is quite common for nuns around Spain to sell cookies and pastries to help sustain their convents.

        Through all of these study abroad experiences, I have recognized that the major limitation of my worldview is the language barrier. While there has not been a situation where I was completely unable to purchase food or a souvenir because I did not speak German, that was not necessarily the case when I visited Madrid. My experience in Madrid was incredible, as the food, architecture, people, and atmosphere were all unforgettable. However, I could not help but think about how much more immersive the experience would have been had I been fluent in Spanish. Being unable to fully communicate with locals made me realize just how much language shapes the way we experience a culture.

        My struggles with Spanish became humorously apparent during my visit to La Casa del Abuelo after our group’s tour of the Royal Palace. Although Instagram influencers highly recommended ordering the restaurant’s famous garlic shrimp, I wanted something a bit lighter since it was lunchtime and already around 3:30 p.m. The restaurant was packed at that hour, and I eventually found myself seated in the basement beside a group of six women, locals I presumed, drinking wine and speaking entirely in Spanish. After studying the menu, I decided to order the bocato de calamares, a Madrid street food classic served on squid ink bread.

        Because this was my first solo meal and my first attempt at ordering completely in Spanish, I silently rehearsed my order repeatedly in my head. The moment I attempted to pronounce “bocato,” the women at the table suddenly fell silent before erupting into uncontrollable laughter. Completely embarrassed and attempting to explain that I could not help my Texas accent, I eventually resorted to pointing at the menu to communicate what I wanted. Once the laughter began to calm down, the woman at the head of the table slowly corrected my pronunciation by carefully sounding out each syllable “bo-ca-to.” Of course, this only caused the group to laugh even harder. After holding back tears of embarrassment, the waiter finally nodded and headed upstairs to place my order.

        Despite the laughs and failed ordering attempt, the meal itself was incredible. The crispy calamari wedged between warm squid ink bread, served with lemon and a bottle of mayonnaise, made for the perfect lunch. I fully intend to return one day with a much stronger grasp of Spanish and, hopefully, a perfected pronunciation of bocato de calamares. The experience was certainly memorable, just not for the reason I originally expected.

        Something about this trip, and others I have taken over the years, has inspired me to begin my language-learning journey more intentionally. During the restroom break in the middle of the Invisible Smart City Tour, our tour guide, Eugene, mentioned that bilingual individuals typically develop symptoms of dementia four to five years later than individuals who only speak one language. This alone is a convincing enough reason for me to continue learning languages, aside from the fact that speaking another language would greatly expand my worldview by allowing me to converse more easily with locals and better understand street signs.

        One way I have already been intentional about expanding my worldview during this course has been by putting on my “sociologist hat” and observing each city we have visited through the lens of a student rather than simply as a tourist. Where this trip truly began for me was during the Green City Tour with Miriam in Freiburg. She explained how Freiburg is intentionally surrounded by nature at five points throughout the city and how urban sprawl is not allowed. With the city currently experiencing a housing crisis, a new neighborhood called Dietenbach is being developed on the western side of the city. However, this project has been heavily debated because it is being built on farmland. This is drastically different from the United States, particularly North Texas, where rapid city growth and urban sprawl often seem to be the norm and where a new housing development is constantly breaking ground.

        During this tour, we explored the city of Vauban with its lovely Baugemeinschaften, or “building groups,” that feature shared living spaces, playgrounds, greenery areas, and even a communal pizza oven. It reminded me of a college campus in the best way possible, right down to the shared bikes similar to the Trinity Metro Bikes and the Grünen Flotte Carsharing system, which felt somewhat similar to calling a Fetii or Uber. Americans, myself included, may have forgotten the “sharing is caring” motto taught to us in kindergarten and instead gravitated more toward individualism. However, the collectivist mindset is alive and well in green cities such as Freiburg and smart cities like Vienna.

        During both the Green City Tour and the Invisible Smart City Tour with Eugene, I learned that sustainability extends far beyond sharing things people traditionally associate with renting out, such as bikes, cars, or homes. Sustainability can also involve sharing drills, camping tents, cooking pots, and other everyday items. I also found it fascinating to learn that for every car in America, there are an estimated eight parking spaces, while in Vienna there is approximately one parking space for every car. This type of smart infrastructure did not happen by accident. It was designed by both city leaders and community members who believe in the power and long-term benefits of smart cities. The same intentionality can be seen in many other decisions and policies throughout Vienna that are centered around community members and their needs.

        Throughout my two weeks in Freiburg and Vienna, I realized that going green and staying green is not simply a policy or trend, but a deeply ingrained way of life and culture that begins at a young age. For the United States, it would take an extremely catastrophic event for many Americans to begin rethinking their daily routines that are inherently not environmentally friendly.

        Looking ahead, I plan to continue expanding my worldview by becoming more curious and more willing to open doors. Eugene emphasized the importance of curiosity during his presentation, and after hearing he was a former radio journalist for the BBC and is a current DJ, I realized we had a lot in common. I have always considered myself a curious person, but his comments challenged me to rethink what curiosity truly means. Are you really curious when your question can simply be answered by a search engine? Is curiosity defined by the number of questions you ask, or by the passion you have to explore and discover an answer on your own? Dr. Bruce Murray, our guest lecturer on sustainability in Austria, also reinforced this same idea toward the end of his presentation.

        Since leaving high school, I have given more attention to my curiosity, especially as a student journalist, but often only in pursuit of getting a story rather than for my own personal growth and understanding. Although many of the stories I cover genuinely interest me and I pursue them with persistence, I am not always knocking down impenetrable doors to uncover a story. I have always believed that everyone has a story worth sharing, and that belief is what fuels my passion for journalism. However, to continue expanding my worldview, I know it will require deepening my curiosity, increasing my willingness to embrace unfamiliar situations, and taking every opportunity to see a city from a new angle. Much like riding a roller coaster (ask me about riding the slingshot in Vienna), expanding your worldview often requires stepping into discomfort and embracing the uncertainty that comes with the experience.