(Well, Joseph Jaramillo (’01) and Mighty Interactive have been doing the building. We’ve just been saying, “Wow, that looks great…”)

Either way, though: it goes live Monday, at www.flinnscholars.org. And as you can see, down there in that left rail is a new Scholars blog.

Thanks for visiting here, and see you there…

But even so, what we did manage to sneak into this profile on the Scholars website is worth reading. And we found a couple of pictures and put them on some kind of electronic corkboard called Flickr.

Good luck tracking down Jon from here on out. He’s now working about 23 hours a day in the State Department’s Office of the Coordinator of Reconstruction and Stabilization. They’re the people who put back together failed states after wars and natural disasters and real-estate bubbles collapse and so forth.

Here’s the latest list of names they’ve given pebbles and other random things:

• Headless (a rock)
• Galloping Hessian (a soil sample)
• La Mancha (a trench)
• Snow White (another trench)

Hmmm… we wonder if this endless work is affecting Matt Hom (’08) and Melissa Lamberton (’05), too. Anybody seen them around campus? Are they referring to their backpacks and iPods as Sancho Panza and Lightning McQueen?

If so, this article on the Scholars website might be the last record of them speaking coherently, before the sleep deprivation kicked in.

If you want even more, there’s a reflection from Matt on his experience as a mission documentarian, after the jump.

Reflections and Musings of a Phoenix Documentarian

by Matthew Hom
“Uh-oh, this doesn’t look good”
“What’s wrong? Did I make a mistake?”
“According to your data story, we’re in danger of losing some critical TEGA data. We have to inform the science lead immediately!”

Turning to my mentor, Selby Cull, the primary documentarian on NASA’s Phoenix Mission, I quickly noted our shared look of alarm. In addition to “documenting the evolution of the daily tactical planning process (geek speak for note taking),” our primary responsibility as documentarians involves tracking the data story – a survey of all the observations physically stored on the Phoenix lander. Due to constraints on the lander’s hardware, Phoenix is outfitted with a precious 116 MB of flash memory. Any data/observations not stored in flash at the end of each Martian sol (day) are at risk of autodeletion. Such was the case with the TEGA (Thermal Emission Gas Analyzer) data, a high tech spectroscopic scan. Capable of identifying chemical compounds, most notably organics, TEGA science observations are critical to identifying the possibility of Martian life signatures and achieving “mission success.”

Success is a nebulous term when undefined, especially in the field of science. Without a clear means of measuring progress, it is difficult to recognize and appreciate scientific developments. Long before the landing of the Phoenix spacecraft on May 25, 2008, the science team had been hard at work defining “mission success.” The upshot was an extensive “to-do” laundry list of observations and experiments. The data derived from such observations/experiments, like the aforementioned TEGA data, are critical to ongoing scientific investigations of Mars, particularly: 1) The viability of life in the Martian Arctic, 2) The history of water at the landing site of Phoenix, 3) The effects of polar dynamics on the Martian Atmosphere. Plausible hypotheses are difficult to pinpoint and formulate; answers are even more elusive.

As a Phoenix documentarian, I am witness to the entire scientific process. While there is no such thing as a typical Martian Sol, each day of work begins with a short kickoff meeting. The kickoff meeting provides a quick overview of the current sol’s plan, placing it within the context of the previous sol’s downlinked data. Provided that the status of the lander is healthy, the plan is approved and the scientists break into their respective theme groups and work until the mid-point meeting. By the time the midpoint meeting rolls around, data has usually begun downlinking from the Phoenix Lander via a series of coordinated Mars Orbiter satellite relay transmissions. This downlinked data is critical to the upcoming sol plan, which is traditionally reviewed and revised over the course of the midpoint meeting. Following the mid point meeting, the scientists and engineers part paths, to “End of Sol” and “Activity Planning Approval Meetings (APAM)” meetings respectively. During the “End of Sol” meetings, the scientists give presentations on the status of their work and provide each other with feedback. The strategic “upcoming sol planning” meeting follows on the heels of the “End of Sol” meeting and is subsequently followed by the “short term” and “long term” strategic planning meetings. In these forward-looking meetings, the scientists plan out future sols and prepare template plans for the tactically oriented engineers. Erstwhile, the engineers work diligently in APAM meetings to translate the requests of the scientific team into implementable bits of code for the Phoenix lander.

The evolution of the scientists’ strategic planning meetings into tactically viable plans requires an incredible amount of collaboration, cooperation, accommodation and logistical coordination. Success is contingent upon team members’ steadfast dedication and commitment to the mission, as well as each other. Operation of the Phoenix Mission is by no means an insular task, and made all the more impressive given the strenuous working conditions. Unlike Earth, which operates on a twenty-four hour rotation cycle, Martian days run roughly twenty-four hours and forty minutes. As such, the Phoenix team must operate long shifts on Mars time, while contending with the physical fatigue associated with constant fluctuations in sleep schedule.

Yet, despite the physically taxing demands of the job, the Phoenix team maintains an unrivaled sense of enthusiasm. The synergistic dynamics of the collective Phoenix team are a testament to the triumph of teamwork. Early on in the mission, the TEGA instrument suffered from a series of near crippling setbacks. A potentially fatal short was discovered in its electrical system, threatening to prematurely end Phoenix’s search for water and organic materials. As a result, NASA mandated that the TEGA team treat each experiment like its last, and directed that the next TEGA delivery sample consist of “icy material” imaged at the landing site. In response, the entire Phoenix team rallied behind the TEGA group. Across the board, scientific instrument teams ranging from the Wet Chemistry Lab (WCL), to the Robotic Arm (RA) and the Surface Stereo Imager (SSI) banded together to help TEGA. After conducting exhaustive collaborative analyses, the instrument teams successfully identified “icy-rich” potential sample sites for TEGA. With half the battle won, the robotic arm engineers were able to set about devising methods for acquiring and delivering the icy sample to TEGA.

The seemingly trivial TEGA sample acquisition and delivery ultimately caused more than its fair share of headaches. Multiple delivery attempts to TEGA were thwarted by the cohesive nature of the soil, which caused the sample to stick to the scoop of the robotic arm. With tension and blood pressures running at an all time high and time running out, the Phoenix team petitioned NASA to lift its ice directive. Although NASA relieved the Phoenix team of the directive, NASA requested that the next TEGA sample contain possible traces of ice, no matter how minimal. Admittedly a gamble on NASA’s part, the Phoenix team’s newfound flexibility ultimately paid off and the next TEGA delivery confirmed the presence of ice for the first time on Mars.

One of the most striking symbols from my time on the Phoenix Mission was a shirt imprinted with the saying, “If I knew what I was doing, it wouldn’t be called research.” Science isn’t a rigidly linear process. On the contrary, science is a flexible dynamic and holistic process. Eureka moments are few and far between, sandwiched between moments of maddening monotony. Yet, there remains a constant undertone of excitement. The thrill of victory far outweighs the agony of defeat and keeps the Phoenix team coming back for more.

Unlike the pre-engineered laboratory experiments associated with high school or college, the experiments conducted by the Phoenix team lack predetermined outcomes. As stated by Peter H. Smith, the Phoenix principal investigator on the Phoenix Mission, “We’re excited because surprises are where discoveries come from.” Although the discovery of ice has been making waves in the news media, exciting discoveries are being made on other fronts as well, most notably the discovery of perchlorate. Whatever the results yield, this mission represents the cutting edge of science. The daring exploits of the Phoenix Mission will inspire future space missions and new generations of scientists and engineers.

Shortly after I began my job as a documentarian, Peter gave me the following words of advice “There is no such thing as dumb question. Don’t be afraid to go up to people and ask them what they’re doing.” His advice has proven to be true and I’ve learned a lot about Mars, science, and myself in the process. During my time as a Phoenix Documentarian, I’ve had the opportunity to learn the rudimentary basics of UNIX, meet the director of NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, take pictures with world-renowned astrophysicist Neil DeGrasse Tyson, swap stories with an Aggie Stormchaser, and even calculate a few data stories along the way.

Ultimately, the data issues surrounding the critical TEGA data were resolved in a caucus among head scientists and engineers. Since then countless data stories have been calculated and numerous disasters have been successfully averted. The data-rich information downlinked daily from the Lander’s different instruments will take months, if not years to sift through. Although the primary phase of the mission is quickly coming to a close, the journey of the Phoenix Mars Mission team has only just begun. Extensive analyses will need to be conducted, research papers will need to be written, and future missions to Mars will need to be planned. As for me, my small part in the Phoenix Mission story will come to an end, as I begin my studies at the University of Arizona.

In many ways, the Phoenix Mars Mission represents several firsts. Phoenix is the first NASA Mars mission to be led by a public university. Phoenix is the first mission to scientifically prove the existence of water on a planet other than Earth. Phoenix is the first mission in NASA’s “Scout Program,” the next generation of space exploration; “Scout Missions” represent a shift of paradigm from big budget missions to smaller, lower -cost missions. On a less important note, Phoenix represents my first foray into the real world of science. My experience has been nothing short of incredible and I’m extremely grateful for the privilege of having been a part of this once in a lifetime mission. It’s been an honor to work alongside such dedicated teammates.

Right there in the middle of this picture is our very own Joanna Yang (’08), with Gov. Janet Napolitano and Melisa Tarango of the Governor’s Office of Children, Youth, and Families.

Why is she holding a fancy certificate, and why does she look so happy? We think it’s because Joanna was one of two Arizonans picked by the governor to attend the National Youth Science Camp over the summer in the Potomac Highlands near Bartow, West Virginia. She spent 3+ weeks of July at the camp doing secret things like inventing fuel cells, discovering solar systems, and getting lost in enormous caves under the Appalachian mountains.

We tried calculating the mileage Shruti Bala (’07) has logged since May, but the mammoth task burned out our TI-92 Plus. (Maybe Danielle Bäck (’08) can score us a replacement?)

After Shruti finished the trip to Hungary and Romania with her Scholars class, she went to New York for an internship at the museum of the New York Historical Society. After that, Guatemala, where she brushed up on Spanish and volunteered at a school for disadvantaged boys. Now she’s in Vancouver, where she’s researching healthcare practices among the homeless population and studying at the University of British Columbia. That should keep her occupied until December, but then, she says, it’s winter break in Bangalore, India, and the spring semester in Singapore on an exchange.

Will she recognize any of us by next May?

After the jump, a reflection from Shruti’s brief time back in Arizona, between Guatemala and Vancouver.

I am a foreigner in my hometown. With my luggage in hand, extremely exhausted after a summer filled with travels, I landed at Sky Harbor Airport, lost in time and place. How did I forget the scorching heat or the lack of pedestrians and sea of cars? I was heavily immersed in thought, compiling a mental list of things that had become the norm: crowded pedestrian streets, diverse communities, street vendors, and even something as simple as jay-walking. This was culture shock.

Opportunity is the word that describes this summer. I remember the excitement that first night in New York when I saw Jemalyn and Nadvia after one year. This summer has been full of stories: everything from getting lost on the subway that first day of work to frantically rearranging luggage at NewarkAirport to meet the 50-pound embargo. My internship at the New York Historical Society introduced me to the fields of marketing, communications, and research and enhanced my appreciation for cultural institutions.

After getting immersed into the speed and culture of New York City, Guatemala City was a 180-degree rotation. I recall that drive from the airport to Home Base, noticing influences of American lifestyle: the occasional fast-food chains and glances at gas prices. I realized that even though my surroundings had not changed, I was noticing more attributes about Guatemala City–everything from the political graffiti statements to the sidewalk stores. I grew to appreciate the slower, relaxed lifestyle, to take the time to reflect on the surroundings. This week was an introduction to the people and culture of Guatemala–there is still much to learn.

Don Bosco provides vocational training for about 80 boys between the ages of 14-22 in carpentry, welding, computers, metal work, etc. By the end of the week, the initial tensions and limited communication became memories of laughter and tears of joy. I will always remember those two and half hours I spent with Edwin Balan, when he handed me a tool and showed me how he makes his metal crosses. The next few days, he continued to show me his work–he helped me understand the meaning of patience and attention to detail. I remember the moment when he pointed to my name tag, pulled out his, and we both started laughing about the similarities in our last names. Or the time when it took me 15 minutes to understand a simple statement he said in Spanish. The one conclusion I can make is that there is a universal language: joy.

If there is anything I have learned it is that with traveling comes a responsibility to take action for what is witnessed. This week put into perspective what it means to give. I will never forget the boys at Don Bosco, the welcoming people of Guatemala and Cross Cultural Solutions, and my class of Hammie’s. And even though we may not see each other for the next year or two, the memories have bound us together. As for the summer which has concluded in a blink of an eye–I dream of never forgetting.

Photo by Flickr user Michael R. Swigart under a Creative Commons license

An advertisement from the Business Journal of Phoenix, 07/18/2008

Everybody knows, the main reason to go to college is to get free pizza at meetings of random honoraries, service clubs, and laboratory groups.

Dustin Cox (’04) isn’t a college student anymore, but he’s still getting free food. Tonight, it’s a black-tie-optional dinner, presented by the Hon Kachina Council.

For his untiring work with Anytown Arizona, and founding A-Town at UA, Dustin has been named one of eight recipients of the Hon Kachina Volunteer Award–essentially the Nobel Peace Prize of Arizona.

Here’s the story on the Scholars website. Dustin is, if our records are accurate, the second Scholar to receive the honor, joining Alon Unger (’94), who won for his HIV/AIDS work in the community.

Message to all you stressed-out, over-achieving, amazing high-school seniors: Have fun, be daring, and show us what you’ve got… See you at the interviews!

Photo by Flickr user Chaparral[Kendra] under a Creative Commons license

The mission is grand (creepy?): We’ll document the lives of every last Scholar, from birth to death.

No, not really. But it’s going to be big!

To get things rolling, we’ve scoured The Internets and collected a few videos that were already out there, of such luminaries as Sean Aiken (’02), Clare (Ellsworth) Aslan (’96), Esther Cardona (’00), David Hernandez (’04), Zeb Hogan (’91), John Ingraham (’08), Matt Petterson (’05), Wayne Shen (’04), Anna Thanukos (’93), and Mitch Turbenson (’08). We’ve also got the Flinn-centric band Hermit Tree, the Classes of 2004 and 2007 in Europe, and that same Class of 2007 doing something SPAM-related at a talent show.

And… we’ve added these to the pile:

A 2008 retreat montage:

Matt Hom (’08) recounting his way-ahead-of-schedule mentorship experience:

Nicole Rennell (’05) describing a year of study and travel in southern Africa:

Amy Stabler (’07) telling a Sandra Day O’Connor tale:

and Sarah Trainor (’07) and Sam Wang (’07) delivering an enticing account of the Scholars community:

Come back for more from time to time. And, all you Steven Soderbergh wanna-bes: Send us your finest work!

For example, back when Joe Holmgren (’93) tied the knot, we spoke not a word. And last summer, when Phil Hawkins (’94) went to a park in Dallas on a Saturday afternoon and had a single scoop of chocolate in a sugar cone with butterscotch topping, you didn’t read about it here.

But this New York Times notice, announcing that Mary Fan (’97) has married her Yale Law paramour, is just too good to pass up. It’s got Jurassic Park, dangerous New Haven restaurants, Birkenstocks, a grapefruit farm, Marvin Gaye, and a mid-century history interlude. Go take a look at the article, and then send Mary a note of congratulations for her other big news–an appointment to American University as an assistant professor in the American University Washington College of Law.

So where is Devon Sanner (’92) now?

He’s the sous chef at Janos Restaurant in Tucson. Yes, that Janos–the one on everybody’s best-of lists, pretty much recognized as one of the top restaurants in the Southwest.

You’d better go get in line. Devon says he just unveiled the new Tucson Days/Tuscan Nights menu.

And on the very same day that we caught a glimpse of the future Guv, we met Kim Demarchi (’93) for the first time.

Well, Kim’s now at Lewis and Roca herself, and the other day we heard some very good news: she’s been named a partner of the firm. It’s been an awfully quick ascent–she’s only had her J.D. for eight years.

This isn’t a suggestion that Kim’s definitely going to be running the whole state of Arizona one of these days.

But we see a pattern.

Mary Beth Hutchinson (’07):

After an early morning stop at an internet cafe, Amy, Bobby and I make our way towards Parliament and our meeting with the Committee of Foreign Affairs. As we approach the building it becomes clear that barring one of us suddenly becoming a hero of the Hungarian nation, we are getting nowhere near Parliament. As we find out later, this day marks the 50th anniversary of the execution of Imre Nagy, a leading figure in the ’56 revolution. A huge commemoration surrounds the entrance to the building. Don’t you just hate when the remembrance of a figure beloved by millions delays your vacation plans? When the event ends and the VIPs filter out from behind the barricades and into waiting cars, our group can finally make it’s way into the building.

Point of Architecture: the Hungarian parliament building is strikingly beautiful. If you have never seen it, do a quick Google image search. Go ahead. I’ll wait. See what I mean? Where our capitol reaches back to Greece and Rome for rising columns and smooth marble, the Hungarians took the jutting spears and dizzying decoration of Gothic Europe. The inside proves just as stunning. Every surface is rich and plush in dusty jewel tones and gilding. After walking up a set of stairs that makes me feel like I need to be dressed in ball gown or better just to climb them, we come to the rotunda under the main dome. While the stained glass and dome are beautiful, the main attraction is undoubtedly the Crown of St. Stephen. Given to the Hungarian monarchy after its conversion to Christianity, it… well, crowns hundreds of crests across Hungary and Transylvania. It is so prevalent in that region, in fact, that I really could not tell you of any Romanian symbols I saw while there. Everything is painted, carved, or enameled with the Hungarian crest topped by the crown of St. Stephen. It is the ultimate symbol of Hungary. And there it is sitting on a velvet pillow.

Walking through the rest of Parliament, we pass a set of statues. The guide explains that every occupation in Hungary was represented with a statue and thus every citizen had representation in Parliament. I am sure they would have appreciated actual representation, but hey, you’ll take what you can get.

Eventually we make it to our meeting with the Committee of Foreign Affairs. The discussion ranges from energy security, to Hungarians abroad, to an absolutely humiliating tape where the government admitted that it had lied during the election. The discussion covers too much ground to be completely recounted here.

After a minor incident involving a large number of tourists walking unescorted through a major building of state, we return to the IIE office for a final reflection session on the trip. Afterward, Arielle, Ellen, Agi, and I walk through Budapest trawling for cookbooks and Hungarian music.

After a quick trip back to the hotel to change, we all head to the last dinner of the trip. Champagne glasses are raised and thanks said to IIE, speakers, Michael, Agi, and chaperones alike. The chaperones hand out awards of their own creation to students based on their own observations during the trip. The awards range from Narcolepsy Award to Unwilling Accomplice Award. Soon after, we fill our plates with Hungarian specialties and eat dinner. As dinner winds down, we finalize plans to spend one last night out in Budapest. Bobby turns twenty at midnight (give or take a time zone) and a group of us are resolved to celebrate. Three establishments, a soccer game, half a dozen hours, and the last of our forint later, the five of us left standing (Liz, Justin, Amy, myself, and, of course, Bobby) walk back to the hotel to snatch a few hours sleep before the flight back home.

(Photo courtesy Mary Beth Hutchinson)

Jared Neufer (’07):

According to Wikipedia, “Friday the 13th is considered a day of bad luck in English-, French- and Portuguese-speaking countries around the world, as well as in Austria, Germany, Estonia, Finland, The Netherlands, Belgium, Republic of Ireland, Poland, Bulgaria, Denmark, Iceland, Sweden, Norway, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Hungary, and the Philippines.” I thought I was good to go, given that I was in Romania. But, alas, I was wrong.

Also, strange coincidences usually don’t come so close together. After Arielle lost her wallet on the day she was supposed to write her blog, I didn’t think something out of the ordinary would characterize my day, the very next day of blogging, my day. But, alas, I was wrong.

So, I spent the morning of my blog day being treated for pink-eye. Actually, the whole experience was rather painless. Mada (who deserves endless thanks) took me to a Romanian eye doctor, who looked at my eyes, immediately diagnosed my diabolical eye germs, and wrote a prescription. Then, we walked about 50 feet to a pharmacy, got some eye drops, and before the day was over, my eyes were loads better. So, basically, I set my dear readers up for a devastating disappointment. The (begin ominous voice) ominous medical emergency of the Central European Seminar (end ominous voice) was nothing more than a 10-minute drive, a 10-minute wait, and a 10-minute walk. I think the scariest part of the whole thing was when *gasp* there was no doctor at the first eye place we went to so we had to walk *gasp* 5 minutes to another place.

While I was experiencing the Romanian medical system first-hand, everyone else was exploring Cluj on a photo scavenger hunt. In teams of 4 (and one of 3, thanks to me), the healthy majority took pictures of themselves with various landmarks. I definitely missed out, but being a neutral figure, I got to see the majority of the pictures and get more of an outside view of the whole event. Being required to fit the entire team into a picture with each landmark, teams of Flinns framed pictures with their hands, used their reflections in car windows or puddles, or even had a Cluj resident take their picture for them. Along with the landmark pics, the teams also had to take more creative pictures showing globalization (one team took a picture of the Red Bull car, another was more abstract, opting to take a picture of hands forming a globe) and cooperation and competition (there were a lot of pictures of other scavenger-hunt teams here).

We all had lunch in the city, on our own. I went with a few others to a nice sandwich place, which was cheap and delicious. We all then had to go back to the hotel to catch a few lectures. On the way back, we got hit by a nice shower, so the majority of us ended up sopping wet. The first lecturer was Reka Soos, who is involved in waste management in Romania. Her lecture was a bit repetitive from Illes Zoltan’s, but it provided a few new perspectives. The most drastic was how she believed that the cyanide spill in the Tizsa wasn’t so bad after all. Since cyanide dissipates quickly, it did not kill many of the smaller fish, and did not leave a lasting mark. On the other hand, it drove people to action–many new laws were passed that prevented future harm to the river, and more media attention was given. While pollution is still a problem, Reka told us that the cyanide spill helped galvanize some action.

Next, we had a lecture on Romanian higher education from a political science professor at the University of Cluj. Though his primary expertise was not in education, he brought some light on some major issues in Romanian higher education. It is striking how much Romania suffers from a lack of statistics about anything. Our lecturer could make hardly any analysis about anything, not from lack of expertise, but from lack of data. Also, we heard more about the Bologna system, the new EU-encompassing educational reform. While Abadi-Nagy Zoltan simply presented it in Debrecen, we learned more about its controversiality. The shortening of the undergraduate education to three years definitely has some people up in arms, especially our chaperone Zoltan (lots of Zoltans!). Finally, it was interesting to hear that political science, my field, is relatively new in Romania; in fact, the political-science professor is a sociologist by training.

After the lectures, we took a quick rest, and soon went to dinner. This was our final dinner in Romania, and our farewell to Mada and Zoltan. The food was delicious—we had plates of meat and cheese, potatoes, and chicken and mushroom kebabs. At the end of the dinner, Liz and Justin announced the prizes for the scavenger hunt—each team got an award, ranging from serious to silly, and even though my health prevented me from partaking, Justin and Liz got me a postcard with a pink-eyed dog that said “That’s life” in Romanian. We said our sad goodbyes to Mada and Zoltan, gave them some gifts from all of us, and promised to stay in touch. Following dinner, even though the bus was to be leaving at 3 a.m., (just about) all of us went to a club called Diesel and danced the night away. We arrived back at the bus, ready for a slumber train back to Budapest.

(Photo courtesy Sam Wang (’07))

Arielle King (’07):

They descended upon us as we stumbled, blearly-eyed into the gas station convienence store in search of caffeine and chocolate. Still groggy with bus ride fatigue, we were caught woefully unawares, serving as the perfect prey for vicious, wildeyed bandits armed to the teeth. Luckily for the Flinns of 2007, I managed to deduce from their menacing glares that the bandits intended to steal our passports, make off with our lei, and ride away into the Romanian hills with as many credit cards as possible. Assessing the dire situation, I realized that I could only save the group by sacrificing myself. I valiantly tossed them my wallet and rushed the class into the safety of our four-wheeled fortress. Despite my losses, the comfort of knowing I’d become a legendary hero was all the comfort I needed.

In other words…

This morning I left my wallet on a gas-station coffee table and didn’t realize its conspicious absence until two hours and several hundred kilometers later. Admittedly, the bandits make a far better story. However, hidden in the mess of the most careless blunder I’ve ever committed, just so happens to be one of the most-valuable lessons I’ve learned so far on our Central European adventure. Never underestimate the power of Flinns (and thier fearless leaders) to pick you up, dust you off, and vault you back on your feet. Moments after I realized my wallet was missing, the entire group mobilized to graciously help me scour the bus, mentally retrace my footsteps, and generally maintain my fraying sanity. No one questioned how I could possibly have been so careless; instead, they united to help in every way possible.

Miraculously, we managed, as a team, to track down the gas station’s phone number. To my utter astonishment, the gas-station clerk assured us that the wallet had been picked up and was being held both safely and fully intact. Unfortunately, we still faced the impossible difficulty of retreiving it.

I promised Mada, our wonderful Romanian guide and the true hero of the day, that I’d adequately embellish her role in this drama as a token of my thanks. So, to make a long story short, Mada roared off to retrace our steps on her valliant steed, a crimson Ducati motorcycle with metallic flames licking its sides. Of course she returned victoriously, if slightly road-worn, with the infamous wallet and nothing less than her ever-present smile.

The moral of this story, in the end, can’t really be summed up in a single wise maxim. But the sheer kindness I’ve encountered today showed me a unique aspect of traveling that simply does not happen when things run smoothly. Losing every important document you own is pretty horrible anywhere, let alone in the middle of the Romanian countryside. Yet knowing that someone–or rather, 25 someones–have your back is an unbeatable feeling.

Although the drama of this morning was difficult to top, our afternoon in Targu Mures and evening in Cluj Napoca very nearly surpassed it in excitement. While Mada was off saving the day, the rest of the Flinns had the opportunity to explore the Cultural Palace of Targu Mures. Its stained glass windows in the Hall of Mirrors prompted a fireworks show of camera flashes as we admired their beauty. Inspired by Szeckler ethnographical traditions, ballads, legends, and myths from the Middle Ages, the windows were originally intended for the World’s Fair as a display of Transylvanian history. Unfortunately the first World War kept them in Romania.

After being blown away by the architecture and art of Targu Mures, we continued on to Cluj Napoca in western Romania. There we spent the evening watching Zurbolo, a vibrant and discussion-provoking Hungarain folk-dance presentation. On our way to dinner, Cole, Amy, Justin, and I discussed the intricate symbolism of the play and reached a consensus that it was both indignant at the slow deterioration of old tradtitions and modestly optimistic about the ability of future generations to preserve them. Our evenful day concluded with much-appreciated pizza, Romanian beer, and a football match. After trekking through three cities and multiple adventures, it was great to sit down and relax together.

(Photo by Sarah Trainor (’07))

Clark Alves (’07):

As we waited to board the ski lift, we could see the granite mountain in the distance, peppered with evergreens and enshrouded in a thick cloud at the uppermost point of the peak. Just as beautiful, a lush carpet of green grass extended to the base of the mountain and the beginning of the tree line. The echo of the mountain stream was incessant. Near the top of the lift, dull white conglomerates of ice began to appear below. Exiting the ski lift, the air was fresh and brisk. Natural rock monuments in the shapes of a rudimentary Egyptian sphinx and three mushrooms missing the rounded portions of their heads stood at the base of the summit. Starting the hike, we trekked across tundra-like grass and vegetation, sparsely salted with pink and purple flowers. The ground itself did not appear to be frozen.

Near the apex of the hike, a cloud with a texture nearing that of cotton-candy and in the shape of “a poodle in profile” (Amy Stabler) appeared against the blue sky. At 2,300 meters, we stopped to view a steep cliff on the opposite side of a sharp, deep valley. Alternating patches of gray rock and algaeic green dominated the facade of the cliff, which was riddled with branching veins of bright, compacted snow. At the climax of the journey, we looked down at the rolling hills of emerald trees, which, after our constant accession, seemed to be receding into the distance as if the mountain was moving backwards and away from the valley. Mist began to float through the air and completely obscure the scene below. Thirty meters down, a large boulder was perched on a flat, stable precipice and some of us climbed down to sit on top of it. Mark Jeng’s summation captured the essence of the scene most perfectly: “Life is beautiful.”

Back at the bottom of the mountain, thunder rolled softly in the distance–perfect timing. Back on the bus, we had seasoned salami and cheese sandwiches with bananas, apples, pretzels, and Fourre biscuits, which consisted of soft chocolate sandwiched between two medium thick and chewy crackers. We were all very hungry.

We arrived in Brasov in the afternoon. For many centuries, Brasov was the eastern-most bastion of Catholicism and was strongly influenced by Turkish society and culture. The Germans residents of Brasov purchased Persian rugs as a form of investment and decoration for the city’s most famous building — the Black church, so named because it was burned at one time and retained a gray, charcoaled appearance. The Lutheran Renaissance humanist Honterus (1498-1549) turned Brasov into a Lutheran settlement. His statue stands outside the Black church. The church itself stands approximately 40 meters tall and contains a mixture of Renaissance and Gothic architecture.

The inside of the church contains a series of arches. In front of the high windows is a gigantic altarpiece, 12 meters in height and decorated with a 5-by-3-meter painting of Jesus and six niches occupied by realistic sculptures. An organ with 25 7-meter brass pipes stands on the balcony above the entrance. Resident guilds of the Renaissance era purchased and reserved whole sections of pews within the church and carved elaborate designs into the partitions at the front of each section, advertising the status of their respective organizations. Bullet holes still remain in the columns of the interior–testament to the street warfare of the 1989 revolution against Ceausescu’s communist dictatorship. Another, much smaller organ stands in one corner of the church. The pulpit is ornately embellished with gilded decoration. Later, walking through another part of the city, we spotted a black paw print painted on the outside of a Franciscan church with “save humanity” stenciled in red below it.

During the afternoon reflection session, one Scholar noted the marked extent to which the villagers of Homorodszentpeter seemed to care about the quality of life of their neighbors. Perhaps I speak for more than myself in saying that the hospitable residents of this village have discovered the essence of existence–it is precisely because “life is beautiful” that we should “save” a humanity that will be able to enjoy the adventures of life and the natural beauty of the world that surrounds us for many centuries to come.

(Photo by Sarah Trainor (’07))

Charles Mackin (’07):

On the bus ride this morning, through and around the windy roads of Carpathian Mountains, I made several observations. Central Romania seems much less industrial than far western Romania, which is often regarded as more developed than eastern parts of Hungary. Central Romania also seems to have a sizable agricultural sector, with fields of grain stretching to the horizon. This was later verified in an economic session where the instructor noted that Romania’s bloated agriculture sector once accounted for roughly 30% of the GDP. Currently, Romania is making a concerted effort to shrink the agricultural sector to the recommended 5% of GDP. I also could not help but think the windy roads through the Carpathian Mountains may one day be mere dilapidated remnants of once lesser developed Romania. One of Romania’s major goals is to further develop its infrastructure to make transportation of goods more efficient thus increasing profit margins furthering economic development.

Once at our destination, the Szekely museum of art in Csikszereda, the group received a briefing regarding the history of the museum and the impressionist genre. Much of the collection was of the late 19th and early 20th centuries and came from the town’s once-famous art school. Directors of the art school felt strongly that it should remain entirely private, because they wanted to maintain their independence. The majority of the art fell into the impressionist genre and depicted various scenes of nature with wide-ranging and vivid colors. There was definitely a French influence especially from more prominent painters such as Monet.

In the evening, we enjoyed a presentation on ethnic relations in Romania. I thought it was particularly interesting that in Romania certain minority groups are guaranteed seats in Parliament. The session addressed issues regarding post-Communist-era ethnic relations with emphasis on relations among Hungarian, Roma and Romanian populations. After Romanian independence in 1989, the Hungarian minority wanted to regain control over the education of its people. This often translated into separate schools for the Hungarian people, which spurred major tensions among ethnic Romanians and Hungarians. Such instability hampered foreign investment in certain areas and served as an overall loss for Romania. Romania continuously battles serious issues regarding its minority populations. Today, Hungarians have a separate schooling system, which I found to be an interesting contrast to the U.S., where increased integration is usually the goal among minority groups.

Likewise, the Roma population has a separate schooling system. In the case of the Roma, there are astronomical educational disparities. A mere 1 percent of Roma children reach high school, and even fewer attend universities. Generally, Romanians acknowledge a two-tier system, one that is both separate and unequal. Such lack of education inevitably leads to minimal career opportunities. As a result, a disproportionate number of Roma survive off of state funds. Culture also poses a significant problem for the Roma people. Such poor socioeconomic backgrounds lead to other issues. When asked whether or not the Roma had become politically apathetic, the answer was no. On the surface, roughly 50% of the Roma population turns out to vote. However, many Roma people do not necessarily see the value in voting or at least attach a greater value to sustenance and in turn sell their votes. Clearly, Romania is dealing with some serious issues, of which Roma culture only serves to further complicate matters. Romania is most-definitely pressed for solutions, nonetheless. The Roma population is steadily increasing, and with recent ascension into the European Union, Romania is required to prove itself a state that expresses a particular interest in the welfare of its minority citizens.

(Photo by Quinney Fu (’07))

Sam Wang (’07):

My day began with the chit-chat of the neighborhood dogs of Homorodszentpeter; it was 2 a.m. Then, at 4 a.m., the roosters began to announce their presence in the village. By the time 7 a.m. had come around, the cacophony of animal sounds had become one of the most effective alarm clocks I have encountered on this trip. My homestay, Ildi, had already prepared breakfast, coupled with an excellent morning tea brewed from dried, homegrown flowers.

The day’s lectures began with an introduction to Homorodszentpeter given by Kinga, the Unitarian minister as well as the mayor of the village. Kinga eloquently informed the Flinns of village life, values, and her own origins. During the discussion, topics of gender roles and educational values arose; it was apparent that, while Kinga hopes for success and higher education for her family, she also wishes for the retention of village values in her children’s minds. Because of strong family values and an undeniable sense of community, Kinga placed village life upon much higher ground in comparison to metropolitan living. A sense of familiarity swept over me as Kinga spoke; growing up in rural China for the earlier parts of my life, I could understand the minister’s perspectives wholeheartedly. Soon, following Kinga’s discussion, Zoltan gave his lecture on Transylvanian history, which presented an informative and chronological view to the changes that had occured in Transylvania over the centuries, as well as the events leading to and during the 20th-century revolutions.

After yet another amazing lunch prepared by Ildi, it was time to say goodbye to our beloved village. Following the presentation of gifts (along with a donation for the church), we parted ways with our hosts. On the bus, I reflected on the village I have grown to love and the nostalgia I had felt with every single step through the streets of Homorodszenpeter (sometimes in cow manure). Gradually, I fell asleep on the bumpy ride to Saint Anna Lake.

Saint Anna Lake, the only crater lake in the region, was a force to be reckoned with in the rain. The pitter-patter of rain drops soon turned into a summer storm that guaranteed a head-to-toe drenching, especially for Arielle and Amy, who decided to take a run through the crater forest. After drying and hanging our clothes on the bus, we went back to normal bus mode: playing cards, dozing off, and for the four Chinese Flinns (myself included), belting out Taiwanese-pop on our iPods.

Later that night, we arrived at the village of Illyefalva. After checking into the guest houses, the group proceeded to eat dinner on the lawn of an ancient fortress situated near the hostel. Soon, however, the romantic dinner had to be relocated under cover due to the rain. Following a hearty meal of goulash and bread, a large portion of the group followed Mada and Zoltan (our fearless Romanian chaperones) to a nearby bar, where I ordered unidentifiable drinks with my unintelligible Romanian/Hungarian speaking skills. The night went by fast, and before I knew it, I was lying in bed, dozing off.

(Photo by Sarah Trainor (’07))

Kathryn Scheckel (’07):

Our two-day homestay in the Hungarian village of Homorod Szent Peter (or in Romanian, “Petrem”) in Transylvania began rather early, at 2 a.m., after a long bus ride of nine hours. After being greeted enthusiastically with Palinka and dessert rolls by the women of the village, members of the group then tiredly made their way to their respective hosts’ homes and went to sleep.

Around 8 a.m., I awoke to the classic sounds of a farm–sheep, roosters, and cows. Breakfast, prepared by my gracious host Veronica, consisted of bread and butter, deviled eggs, fruit, and coffee. What a delicious way to begin the day.

During the morning, the students had the option to choose between either attending the weekly Sunday Unitarian service led by Kinga, the head minister of the village; or exploring the surrounding area, which is what I decided to do. Along with Efren, Charles, Niko, Cole, Shruti, and Juhyung, we spent around three hours looking at the beautiful scenery of the rural village. We walked through the peaceful cemetery, which clearly was very well cared for by the relatives of the deceased, indicating the strong family ties of the community. On our way back to the village for lunch, we got a chance to see cows from a very up-close perspective. Efren and Juhyung were brave enough to cross the electric fence to pet them–which was not exactly well-received by the lethargic and angry-looking cows! Those who went to the church service commented on the traditional, simple style of the prayers, and enjoyed gaining insight into a very integral part of the community’s mentality and shared spiritual connection.

In the afternoon, everyone spent time in the city of Sighisoara, the birth place of the legendary Count Dracula–or the harsh fifteenth-century Wallachian prince, Vlad Tepes. Sighisoara attracts many tourists and is known for its beautiful cobbled architecture, classic churches, museums, and a vast German cemetery. Some detours were taken into the surrounding shops in the town, where many people, including myself, purchased the local glass jewelry, pottery, and hand-crafted wooden goods.

In the evening, another display of the community’s generosity was shown in the goulash party. All the hosts prepared an elaborate meal of traditional goulash, salad, bread, sauerkraut, and drinks. Following the dinner, the group engaged in traditional Hungarian folk dancing, led by two young men of the community. This is where I discovered I certainly have two left feet when it comes to mimicking the complicated, rhythmic moves of the dances. However, I really enjoyed not only observing but actually experiencing these lively dances. The Flinn group was able to share with the Hungarians our own “traditional” American “hokey pokey” and the “Macarena”–though not exactly the same level of dancing we were introduced to!

Overall, day one in the village of Homorod proved to be both insightful and unexpectedly relaxing for me. Observing the hard-working members of the community and seeing the different gender roles and expectations within the village’s hierarchy was enlightening. While men generally perform outdoor physical activities, the women serve as anchors for the home and family. Responsibilities are split evenly among family members, and children seem to mature at a much younger age than the average American child. The immersion into the village’s lifestyle and our immediate acceptance by its gracious members made this particular homestay a valuable and enjoyable cultural learning opportunity for me.

(Photo by Kathryn Scheckel (’07))

Amy Stabler (’07):

Traveler’s Revelation Number 14: When venturing into a new time zone, feel free to adjust not only your wristwatch, but your alarm clock too.

After gaining yet another insight into the art of traveling, I hurried to prepare for our first full day in Romania, which began with a group trip to see the country’s only museum dedicated to the remembrance of Romania’s 1989 revolution against the brutal regime of the country’s largely incompetent Stalinist-type dictator, Nicolae Ceausescu. The museum was set up by former veterinarian who took part and was wounded in the early stages of the movement.

As we entered the open courtyard at the center of the quiet museum, the bells of many churches began to peal out, echoing through the streets and into the quiet place, almost mimicking the ringing cries of the December 17th, 1989: “Today in Timisoara, tomorrow in Romania!” One of the museum’s rooms was a chapel finished in 2002 and painted in the Greek Orthodox style that listed the names and ages of the victims of the Revolution’s violence, while another room was papered with drawings by local children depicting what a BBC documentary we viewed called the “human avalanche on the streets.” Via two documentaries, we learned about the actual progress of the revolution–it was a complex uprising, but basically began in Timisoara when a priest and a close cadre of friends took to the streets to protest against the Ceausescu regime. The movement grew, joined mostly by students, and later continued in Bukarest, but with slightly different motives and emotions.

In speaking with a number of my fellow Scholars afterward, the best descriptor we could assign to this piece of the trip was “personal,” as reactions ranged from interest to shock and from anger to empathy. Given what we learned about Ceausescu’s regime and the contrast between Hungary’s relatively smooth transition to democracy and free-market economy via goulash communism and Romania’s bloodier struggle, a variety of marked economic, civic, and infrastructural (read: the two-lane, pothole-ridden highway that our bus driver Gabor so masterfully navigated throughout the span of the nine-hour bus ride that began that afternoon and ended in the early hours of the next morning) differences between the two countries comes as no surprise.

As a student of history and economics thoroughly familiar with what the often well-informed U.S. was doing on the international scene while Ceausescu was killing his countrymen, I will, with great difficulty, avoid a political rant but will instead present some of Ceausescu’s actions and words that, along with the videos, the museum’s photos, and the personal recollections of Zoltan, Mada, and the museum’s founder and curator, stirred up so many thoughts and emotions in me:

To pay off all of Romania’s foreign debt, Ceausescu taxed the country into absolute poverty, while building for himself numerous grand palaces filled with every touch of luxury imaginable. He reflected that “a man like me comes along only once every 500 years,” and eagerly declared, “I will become Romania’s Stalin!”

During his rule, Bucharest had a rat problem. To solve the infestation, he ordered the release of dogs into the streets. To this day, the capital city has a problem with near-feral and often rabid dogs.

When deciding where to travel, Ceausescu would spin a globe and randomly stick a pin somewhere on its surface. His megalomania and need for constant adulation from foreigners led to “diplomatic” visits abroad (where he and his wife would routinely steal everything from lamps and vases to silverware from their hotels,) and hunting trips where he defiantly claimed that he had shot every single animal himself, contrary to anything as trivial as reality, or attempted to import exotic game, such as polar bears, which would often die in transit.

These are merely three examples of many.

Most of the remainder of the day was spent on the bus, and the trip, though long, was not uneventful. The Flinn Class of 2007 is a highly skilled and talented group, and I would say that this was demonstrated to the fullest in our epic bus-ride-dance-and-sing-along party.

(Photo by Justin Kiggins (’02))

Mark Jeng (’07):

“The next part of the trip will be ‘improvisational’ and will require flexibility,” Michael warned us as we began our six-hour bus ride across the Hungary-Romania border. Usually I’m all for the itineraries and schedules, but for the past week and a half that we’ve been without our technology, our deadlines, our burdens, I’ve been much more willing to adopt that “go with the flow” attitude that most Europeans seem to have here.

We spent the majority of the bus ride napping, playing cards, and–of course–discussion time. This particular one was spent sharing last night’s Debrecen excursions and a short lecture on refugees by our chaperone–Justin Kiggins.

We arrived at Timisoara around 3 p.m. (one hour later than we had hoped for) and ate a quick, but delicious, lunch at the hotel. We then had a short orientation about the city, which was also known as the “Forehead” of Romania. Apparently, a common saying around here is “Today in Timisoara, tomorrow the whole country,” which was evident by the 1989 Revolution of Romania that our guide proudly exclaimed, started here in this city.

The rest of the time we had free to explore the city. Unfortunately, a lot of our free time was a result of our inability to visit the Roma Association Women’s Center, as was originally planned for today (due to last minute complications). I guess this was some of that “flexibility” Michael was talking about.

We split off into smaller groups; mine wandered around sampling random coffee houses and gelato shops. We returned to our hotel to change, and then ventured our again in search of food. A friendly Irish man pointed us toward an espresso shop’s grand opening, where they were offering free food and free drinks (I guess the Irish really are lucky!). After taking advantage of our fortunate situation, we spent the rest of the night at a club called “Darc,” getting our groove on.

(Photo by Liz Dreeland (’01))