Amazingly awkward time in Italy

At the start of February, I was experiencing quite the travel bug. I found myself searching for flights to Brussels, Belgium but nothing was cheap enough. Then it struck me that I could take the train from Marseille to Italy, and it might be cheaper. When I was first researching this program in Aix-en-Provence, I decided that I wanted to visit Genoa, Italy because it was one of the closest major Italian cities to where I would be. However, until I had this crazy urge to travel, I hadn’t given going there any further thought. I looked into the tickets, and saw that it would be about 70€ round trip for the train, which was quite reasonable. I put the call out to my facebook friends in town to see if anyone wanted to join me, and one of my classmates from Sciences Po was on board. So we decided Thursday night that we were doing this and purchased the train tickets, booked a hostel Friday, and by Saturday morning at 8am we were on a train headed east.

The first leg of our trip went along the Mediterranean coast the majority of the time, and it was crazy beautiful. The train tracks were practically on the beach. This train took us from Marseille to Ventimiglia, Italy, which is a town just across the Franco-Italian border, and as far in this direction as French trains travel. It’s an adorable little beach town where because of its location, both Italian and French are spoken/understood. This was nice because my Italian was still a bit rusty. We planned a five hour stopover in Ventimiglia to grab lunch and have some time to explore. After some wandering, some delicious pizza eating, and some more wandering, we were back to the station and on our train to Genoa.

We arrived in Genoa Saturday evening and took a taxi up to our hostel because it wasn’t exactly close and the bus system was too complicated to figure out in the dark. The city is directly on the coast (and happens to be Italy’s main port) and quickly climbs into some steep hills. The hostel we were staying at was almost the only one in town, and happened to be on top of all of these hills overlooking the city. This meant lots of super windey roads with hairpin turns zig zaging their way up. It was kind of scary in a taxi, and almost terrifying in a city bus (which we used the rest of the time to get between the hostel and the city center) because the roads were also very narrow and had parking on both sides. Often, the bus would have to stop to let the opposite direction traffic go through because there wasn’t enough room. It seemed like a very stupid system, but they showed no signs of wanting to change it.

We dropped our things off at the hostel, and then headed to a nearby restaurant which the guy at the front desk described as the easiest place nearby to grab dinner. We get seated and immediately notice that something was strange about this place. It seemed like a supper club, or a low budget banquet hall. The chairs were plastic garden chairs, they still had New Year’s decorations up, there was a half assed DJ booth complete with 3 disco lights, and a few strings of rainbow xmas lights were hung in the room. My friend and I were also the only table with less than six people at it. Then we saw someone was setting up at the DJ booth and hoped for some hilarious Italian entertainment, and we were not disappointed. For the rest of the evening, there were at least two couples on the dance floor, one of them being the same guy alternating between three different women. At one point there was a nine year old out there who was doing Shakira-like things with her hips as she danced with her mother…so apparently they pop out of the womb like this (and singing…because they switched to karaoke later). But the food was good, and all the slightly awkward ambiance/entertainment made it quite the memorable evening.

The next day we wandered around Genoa a bit. It was Sunday, so the city was relatively deserted and most shops were closed. It was also quite chilly, which didn’t help anything. We got some quality indoor time at their aquarium which was pretty neat. We were also unintentionally constantly trailing a trio of Italians who were taking dreadfully cliché stone faced European photos in front of almost each main exhibit. And since I think this is hilarious and that’s basically my favorite thing ever, and why I look so “angry” in all the photos I post of myself, it made the endeavor all the more entertaining.

We wandered some more and came upon some random palace in town. We saw it was only 2€ for young people to get in, so we decided to check it out. As we approached the stairs to the entrance, a man comes down and tells us it’s too cold up there and to come back in ten minutes after he takes a break and we could get in. So we come back and aimlessly loiter for a bit with a large group of Italian tourists before this same man spots us and points to where we could buy a ticket and then join the group. So we acquire our tickets, and these people in the office are on the phone, “I have two girls here…are they coming with you? What should I do with them…”. All the sudden a woman appears and tells us to come with her, and she takes us upstairs into the palace. My friend and I were passed back and forth a few times before they decided who was going to show us around, because there was this large organized group, and then a few unrelated stragglers including myself and my friend. So we got a detailed tour (in Italian) of this palace with just four other people, which was much more preferable to the giant group that was also there. My poor friend didn’t really speak any Italian other than “I don’t speak Italian, I’m Canadian” so she only caught every 5^th word, and I think I understood at least half of what was being explained to me. We just maintained facial expressions that gave our guide the impression that we weren’t lost so things didn’t get more awkward. But in the end, it was a beautiful palace, a cheap tour, and just an overall interesting experience to happen upon and be thrown into. We spent the rest of the afternoon in search of food to take back to the hotel for dinner since we knew that with it being Sunday our options would be limited. But we threw together a nice dinner of pesto (the specialty of Genoa), some foccacia bread, porchetta (insanely tasty slow roasted herb pork, a specialty of Rome) and some cheese and we were as happy as could be.

The next day, we went back into town to take a train farther east along the coast to a place called “Cinque Terre” (five lands) which is a string of five small villages 5.5 miles from start to finish that are connected by a walking path and widely regarded as one of the most beautiful places in the world. So we got off the train at the farthest village and went to purchase tickets to enter since it’s a national park. The woman at the office tells us that due to “problems” the coastal path between towns was only available between where we currently were and the next town up, but apart from that we’d need to use the more complicated and mountainous hiking trails, or buy the ticket that was admission use of the train that connects everything. In no hiking spirit, we bought the train ticket, grabbed a copy of the train schedule, and highlighted the trains we would take at each town since they weren’t that frequent and didn’t want to be stuck somewhere too long. The walk to the next town was outrageously beautiful. It was around noontime, and my friend and I started to be craving some lunch. There was a group of dozens of Chinese tourists in the second town, half of which were carrying McDonald’s bags. Intrigued, we tried to find this easy lunch, but it was nowhere in sight.

So we caught the train to the 3^rd town and figured we could find lunch there. However this train didn’t exactly drop us off in the town. It was more like several hundred yards to the side of and then 400 steps below. When you’re starving and just looking for food, an infinite staircase is quite insulting. We made it to the top and began to search for a café/restaurant. However, Cinque Terre is very much a warm weather destination…and it was February. So much of these towns were dormant/deserted. It was nice to be somewhere so popular when it was peaceful, but not when we just needed food. At this point it was now past the typical European lunchtime window (after 2pm), so we were afraid we wouldn’t be able to find a place that would actually serve us lunch, even if they had been open. But we found a place whose door was unlocked and had no one but a family of three speaking North American English inside. They said that the restaurant had fed them, so we could probably still eat too. As we’re standing there awkwardly, a man pops out of the kitchen and asks if we wanted a table. We said yes, and he says we can have spaghetti with either meat sauce or marinara. Just thankful to be fed outside of lunchtime and outside of tourist season, we picked our sauce and sat down. I’m not sure if it was the fact that we were in Italy, the crazy beautiful view out the window, the joy that we finally found someone to feed us, or how hungry we were after a half day of trekking, but it was the best spaghetti I’ve ever had. We thanked the staff and left a nice tip, and raced back to the train station to head to the next village.

This is where our voyage got even more interesting. We got off the train in this little village called Vernazza (the only ones to get off the train, mind you) and immediately noticed copious amounts of construction. My first reaction was that they were just updating the road while it was the offseason. But as we walked into town, we noticed that people seemed to be working on tearing out/re-doing the 1^st floor of every building. We were very confused. There was no one in town except a few slowly walking old people and construction workers. The harbor had no boats/water in it. There was sediment everywhere; it wasn’t just dirt from a construction scene. We came to the conclusion that there had been a flood of some sort, and now had to awkwardly wait 75 minutes until the next train arrived. By the time we were back at the train station, all the construction people were calling it a day and also taking the train out of town. It was incredibly awkward….all these manly men finished with their day of manly work…and then these two random college girls. When I got back to my apartment Monday evening, I Googled the name of the town to see what had happened. Turns out that October 25^th (keep in mind we visited the 2^nd weekend in February) there had been a mudslide that killed five people and buried the town in 12 feet of mud. Holy shit. Because we decided Thursday/Friday that we’d be leaving Saturday morning and figured that while we were in the neighborhood we’d take the train to Cinque Terre and figure out the fine points of our tourist stops with the help of tourist resources in Genoa, we didn’t Google anything. This meant that we had no idea that there was a deadly mudslide and we shouldn’t have gotten off the train in Vernazza. Apparently the “problems” the woman at the starting office referred to regarding the coastal path really meant “devastating/deadly mudslide”. Thanks for the heads up, lady. But really…anyone in their right mind would have Googled something…anything…before going somewhere. But we were pressed for time and didn’t. Moral of the story, Google before you travel so you don’t end up in a disaster zone.

We visited one more town after that and it was nice and problem free. We headed back to Genoa that night, got one more night of sleep at the hostel, and early Tuesday morning headed back to France. Once again we had to change trains in Ventimiglia, but this time only with a 90 minute layover. This allowed us to pick up some last minute Italian food goodies to enjoy on the train and head back to la France.

It was a really great trip and I’m glad that’s how I cured my travel bug. At some point my Italian really started to come back, probably due to extended immersion and having so much of it spoken to me. I was able to ask a woman at the train station going home from Cinque Terre what I was supposed to do if the ticket machine was broken and no one was working at the window, and then would have been able to explain my situation to the ticket checker on board if they had bothered to come through and check tickets…but they didn’t (heeeey free ride home). And then I was able to have a full conversation with this random old Italian man who came to chat with my friend and I on the beach in Ventimiglia while we killed time before the train home. It was nice until he tells me he has a daughter my age and later in conversation says we should get together for coffee next time I’m in town. Oh ps this was on Valentine’s Day…so nothing says happy V-Day like being hit on by an old Italian man.

Green is Aix, where I live. Yellow is Marseille, where we took a bus to from Aix to catch the 1^st train. Red is Ventimiglia, where we changed trains/killed Italian time. Blue is Genoa, where we stayed and wandered. Black is the general location of Cinque Terre, where we learned life lesions.

In the end, the moral of the story is to avoid visiting beach/summer towns in February…because not much will be open and you’ll be stuck in the cold and to avoid touring a major European city on a Sunday…because most things will be closed. And to Google things before leaving so you don’t end up in a natural disaster zone.

Disaster free part of Cinque Terre

24 hours in Paris

At the end of January, one of the new students in my program posted in our Facebook group that she was going to Paris for a concert, and I decided to join. The act in question was Childish Gambino, aka Donald Glover, aka the black guy from Community. He’s been rapping for a while and he’s actually really good. You should youtube him if you feel so inclined. Anyhow, I’m a fan, so I decided to go for it. This semester I wanted to go back to Paris at least twice, with one of those being a super short day trip, just because I can. I’m living three hours away from Paris, and who knows if that will ever happen again.

So the three of us, that being myself and two other girls from my program, caught a Tuesday afternoon train, arrived in Paris by early evening, dropped our things at our hostel, and then metro’ed across town to the venue. We were even lucky enough to have some nice young Parisians help us find the place, which was awesome. Before we left the station, I went to compare the city map I had marked with the venue’s location to the map of the neighborhood near the exit so I knew which direction to head once we were above ground. Sure enough, these two young people were also looking at the map, and asked me if we were heading to the same venue. Turns out they didn’t know where they were going, but with my specifically marked map plus their knowledge of the area, they now understood and showed us where it was. It might sound like I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but this is huge. Parisians are notoriously cold, rude people. So the fact that this happened was nearly the equivalent of seeing a leprechaun ride a unicorn. I don’t think we would have gotten to/been on time for the show without this little Christmas miracle.

The next day, we did a bit of sightseeing. My two partners in travel had never been to Paris before, so we hit a few staples (Arc de Triomphe, Champs Elysées, Place de la Concord, exterior of the Louvre) and then it was time for the other two to catch their train home. This gave me an additional several hours to wander on my own before heading back to Aix. Once I was alone, I fluffed up my scarf a bit so it was nearly useless and walked like I knew where I was going, and I was presently surprised. None of the tourist crap peddlers bothered me. No one jingled their Eiffel Tower key chains at me; no one offered me some mock petition to sign while they tried to pick pocket me. It was lovely. So I wandered around Paris for a few hours and just enjoyed my time. And soon enough, it was time to catch a train and head home.

Super glad I made the trip. I really love Paris, and am very thankful I have the opportunity to visit it multiple times this year.

Childish Gambino

Things I've learned to love about France

Now that I'm firmly in my second semester, I can tell you for sure that I don't hate everything. Watching all the new people here try to find their way through this country has really shown me what I've gotten used to.

Bread, cheese, coffee and wine.
The French do all of these fabulously well, and I’m terribly spoiled because of it. When I get back to the States, I foresee myself paying extra to obtain a higher quality of all of these things. I recently purchased a little stovetop moka pot for myself, and it was the greatest idea ever. I can make myself café strength espresso in like three minutes in the comfort of my home. Quality>quantity.

They care about students and young people.
These kids don’t know how good they have it. Their university education costs only a few hundred euro in tuition for the whole year. My European friends are being paid by the EU to leave home for a year and study in another member state. If they take out loans, they pay them back when they reach a certain annual income level, not starting six months after graduation. Their student ID gets them a discount so many places. Just being under the age of 24 brings so, so, so many discounts. Museums. Travel. Other things. I was telling a foreigner the other day that it’s hard to travel around the US because it’s so expensive, and that there are no student discounts for rail/bus…and her jaw hit the floor. They can’t imagine life without it. France and Europe understand that young people are our future and deserve an affordable education, and that they’re poor and should be treated by society accordingly. It’s the best.

I think I like having things closed Sunday.
At first it seemed a little weird, but now I approve. Everyone makes sure to get all of their things done beforehand, and all is well. It’s just really nice to have a day that is so chill. I went from DC where if you’re standing on the left side of the escalator you get run over, to the south of France where people could care less when things get done. That attitude might be annoying sometimes (like when I was waiting for internet) but now I think I like it. And I know I’ll like it more once I get back to America.

PUBLIC TRANSPORT. SO MUCH PUBLIC TRANSPORT.
I love love love love this so much. There’s an impressive network of high speed trains all over the country, and then each region has a network that services many smaller towns that the TGV misses. And if the train station isn’t in the center of town, there’s a bus that will take you to the station. And did I mention the student discounts? UGH it’s just so awesome. I understand it’s different for America because France’s population density is more or less three times that of the US along with a huge size difference…but still. It’s just a really great system.

Oh, the places you'll go!

I’ll add more to this as they come to me…

The one we call "Miss Cray Cray"

If you follow me on facebook, you might have seen several references to a crazy woman living at my apartment. My living situation is a bit strange, where I’m only renting my room in this apartment, and not signing a lease for the whole thing with my roommates. So this means I only have legal authority over my room, and my landlady can place whomever she wants in the other empty rooms as she pleases. So I got back from Italy to find out that my landlady had moved an American woman in her late 40s into one of my apartment’s spare rooms. Things were a little crazy, and Dru and I weren’t certain why she was there, and it took us a while to figure it out.

This woman was telling Dru and myself one crazy story after another. She had been to x, y, and z. She studied every subject from a-z at said prestigious universities. She has advanced degrees in these things. She was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. She was a Congressional Page three times, one of those times as the personal page for the Speaker of the Senate. She was sailing around the world. She was kidnapped by Colombian pirates and tortured. She’s been living in France for five years. The list goes on and on. The point being, there’s too much for anything to make sense.

So this woman just seemed too strange for things to add up. I’ve lived with someone like this before during my stint as an RA so this was just déjà vu. I consulted with my program’s staff, who contacted my landlady to see just exactly what was going on. Apparently this woman lives on the 2^nd floor of my building, and was sharing the common spaces of her apartment with a 70 year old British man. For whatever reason, this woman couldn’t handle it and because my apartment had available rooms, my landlady said she could move down here until the end of the month when the British guy was moving out so she could feel better. She’s paying for both rooms, though…so my landlady is really the winner in this. But regardless, here’s the kicker; my landlady then tells the woman from my program that apparently this American woman was kidnapped by Colombians and apparently she was tortured. Apparently my landlady saw her captain’s license and some sort of proof that this incident on the high seas took place. And apparently that’s why she’s crazy.

You might notice that I just said the word “apparently” a lot. You have to understand that this is not a story that I can believe until I actually see some proof for myself. I’m sure Colombians do kidnap people, but I just am finding it hard to believe that one of them is living in my apartment. Regardless of why she’s crazy, I’m still treating her the same way—with a good deal of caution. If this is really what happened and why she’s like this, I don’t want to be insensitive. But you have to understand my skepticism. It’s one hell of an awkward situation that I hope none of you will ever have to understand, how to find a balance between being nice to her and being freaked out as fuck. Strange things are happening in this apartment. Jars of unopened, cheapass jam are disappearing. Juice glasses and Tupperware are walking away. This woman makes no noise when she travels. I’m not one to use Harry Potter references, but it’s as if she apparates into the room. You turn around and she’s just there…staring at you. Staring into your soul.

But yeah…that’s her in a nutshell. We try to avoid conversation, because it gets on the crazy train real quick and then things get awkward. And she’s only here until the end of the month. And that’s almost here! Yay! Dru and I have had to celebrate someone moving out of this apartment twice already, and we’re going to celebrate this one too. We just have terrible luck.

As a disclaimer to any family members who might read this and worry, I am in no danger. This is just giving me some interesting stories that I’ll never forget. This is what can happen when you live in an apartment where you’re only renting a room and not the whole thing.

OH, THE THINGS A YEAR ABROAD CAN TEACH YOU.

Welcome to 2012.

So I really suck at keeping this totally updated.

At the start of the month I went to Milan for a long weekend to celebrate my 22^nd, and it was magical. I picked up Italian my sophomore year of college just for funsies, and those four semesters were the four easiest As of my life. However, when you’re in France for five months straight, completely immersed in the French language…it gets buried a little. So the Carly going through Italy this time was a bit weaker than she would have been a year ago, but whatever. I remembered enough to know what was going on, wiggle my way through a crowd, interact with a cashier, and go to a restaurant. It was pretty bare bones, but it was enough to get by.
I totally forgot about European sale season, and was pleasantly surprised to see that it indeed started on my birthday in Milan. The stores here don’t really have a “clearance” section ever; they just have gigantic multi week sales in January and July/August to get rid of their stock to make way for the new season. The shopping neighborhood in Milan was more or less the size of the center of town in Aix, which was amazing. Parts of it were normal stores, and parts were giant D&G’s and whatnot. I stuck to the normal stores and left town with a few pieces that I saved a bunch of money on. Had I brought a larger bag—I would have bought so much more. So it was probably for the best that I was restrained.
But overall it was a wonderful trip. I went with the other two girls from my program that are here for the whole year and also study at Sciences Po. We saw some touristy stuff, did our shopping, and ate some food. Oh, Italian food… Pizza was a staple of our diet, and I was in heaven. Between that and obtaining some Italian hot chocolate, I was just so happy.

After Italy, I had to get back into the swing of things rather quickly here. My schedule required a bit of re-tooling, due to constantly being disappointed with classes I was testing out. Ultimately, I think I’ve decided on courses dealing with all things Canada, France in the World, States and Societies in Europe in the 19^th and 20^th Centuries, International Humanitarian Crises, International Economics, and Contemporary International Relations. The last one is specifically dealing with the EU’s relations with the rest of the world and requires a 20 minute oral presentation and 15 page research paper. I’m actually really excited for it, and I think I’m going to focus on the EU’s relationship with the United States. Since this is my last semester in school for a while, or maybe ever, I decided to find classes that I would really enjoy being in and topics I was interested in—regardless of the way they fell into a schedule. I can make fun happen around a schedule, but I can’t make myself hate life less in a super boring class.

My program acquired about 30 new students who are here from Indiana, Michigan, and Wisconsin, but just for the spring semester. Only six of them are studying at Sciences Po, though. The rest are at the liberal arts school with the rest of my program. I’ve had the opportunity to meet quite a few of them and they seem nice. But of course, I’ll never see most of them since they don’t go to my university and we have no real reason to be in the same place at the same time. Regardless, two years as an RA and 22 years as a nice person have led me to share my semester’s worth of tips and tricks. One of them moved into an empty room in my apartment, which is nice. I’m sick of having unpredictable people passing through here, which brings me to my next point. Nevermind, she’s getting her own post.

Last weekend, I took a little day trip with the international association at Sciences Po. They are so so so so awesome. I give them seven euro, and they charter a bus to take us to a town in the region, feed us breakfast when we get there, and then show us around. What more do you need? I almost wish I wasn’t graduating so that I could get back to UWM and be a part of the international student association just so that I could “pay it forward” and help out people adjusting to Milwaukee. So I saw a bunch of old churches and buildings, which has started to feel so normal. We spent some time wandering around a 12^th century abbey, and it was really neat. We don’t have anything nearly as old and impressive in the States. Don’t get me wrong, the US has plenty of impressive things—they’re just not that old. With the exception of the Grand Canyon, take that Europe.

And since I know there are people who read this that aren’t on facebook, like my grandmother, here are public links so that you can see the photos I took in all of these places:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2409263984728.131582.1045057187&type=3&l=c0cb843b88

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2820500145375.140181.1045057187&type=3&l=ee9d077d1f


I’ll have even more updates soon. My life is busy and amazing right now. Still working on that voting situation, if anyone is concerned. Still working…

Friendsick...to miss friends but not home?

Just wanted to say that I miss all my friends from school…a lot.

I’m sorry I shipped myself to DC for the summer and missed Red vs Blue. At least I was able to get you guys a sweet trophy. Who couldn't love that face?

I’m sorry that once I stopped being an RA and actually got free time, I left the country for a year. And that’s also the year when everyone is 21, even Keith. Sometimes I wish I could just go back into this picture for a little while and ignore the fact that I would one day occupy the room in the background. This was only 3 years ago but it still seems like we were babies back then.


We all know I had to do both of these things. After all, I am majoring in World Domination. DC was very easily the coolest thing I’ve ever done and I’m so happy to be in France for a year. But it’s not all rainbows and butterflies. Like right now.

I still don’t have an exact date for when I’m coming home, but I’ll let you know. And we can celebrate our reunion and graduations together.

Bisous.

...I'll post something less sad in a few days. In all reality, my life is pretty awesome right now. I just love my friends to bits and pieces and miss them thiiiiiiiiiiiis much.

Help! Help! I'm being repressed!

If you’re family/friends from Wisconsin, a lot of this probably isn’t news to you. If you’re blogstalking me from Europe, prepare for an education.

After the November 2010 elections when the Republican Party took over the Governor’s Mansion and both houses of the State Capitol, the legislature was able to very quickly send a wide variety of bills to Governor Walker and these bills became law. One of them was a bill greatly strengthening the requirements for voter identification at the polls, leaving Wisconsin to have some of the strictest voting laws on the books in the entire country. Since this isn’t a politics blog, I won’t go into full details of how this law is complete bullshit. We can save that for a face to face conversation once I return to the States.

I had ten days between coming home from my internship in Washtington, DC and leaving the United States for ten months. On my list of things to do was to go town to Village Hall, and register to receive absentee ballots while I am abroad. I filled out some forms and they explained that I would receive my ballots by email, and I’d just have to print them off and mail them back to be counted. However, yesterday I received an email from a village clerk saying that there were going to be some issues with this process.

Apparently there were some changes to absentee voting that meant that after the February primary election, absentee ballots could only be emailed out to members of the military and “overseas voters” (a person who is residing overseas indefinitely). Since I am neither of those, there’s an election in April where I will not be able to receive a ballot via email—it will have to arrive via standard US Post. This becomes a problem because I only have about twenty days for them to mail me the ballot and me to get it back to them. Mailing things across the ocean isn’t exactly the quickest and easiest thing, and having to do it twice will obviously take twice as long. So in theory, for me to be certain that I wanted my vote to count; I would have to pay an arm and a leg to overnight/express mail my ballot back to Wisconsin to be counted.

There are a number of things that I do not understand:

· How does physically mailing a ballot versus emailing a ballot reduce voting fraud, when in both cases the voter is physically mailing the ballot back for counting?

· How does a citizen living abroad indefinitely have primacy in this situation over me if I’m the one who definitely is coming home and will be more directly affected by the outcome of the election?

· How is it more cost efficient to the tax payers to be paying to physically mail ballots to certain people instead of emailing?

· How does leaving me to pay the hefty fee for express international shipping not count as an obstacle for me to practice my right to vote?

Over the summer, I tried to do my own research on this voter ID law once it started to receive more and more press. I decided to write to Mr. Jeff Stone, who is not only my representative in the Wisconsin State Assembly, but he coauthored the voter ID bill in question. I explained to him that I was researching the bill, and was looking for information regarding absentee voting while overseas and any changes that might be made to the procedure after the new law is implemented. A few weeks later I received a response in which he called my concerns “unfounded and unnecessary” and said that everything about absentee voting remains “relatively intact”.

At this point, a girl can’t help but feel deceived. I began to realize that this could not only pose a problem to me, but to any Wisconsin student who wants to practice their right to vote while they are studying abroad in the future. I asked the village clerk with whom I was in contact if the same twenty day window would apply to the elections in November, and she said that there was a 47 day window between which ballots could be sent out and received for counting. So this isn’t even an issue for all elections, just some of them.

I might be preaching to a niche market, but this is important. The right to vote—the backbone of democracy. America goes to war in all corners of the world to spread democracy yet at the same time we have stuff like this going on in our own country. I am one of the last people who you should try to tell that she won’t be able to vote.

I am going to get answers, and no one is going to get in my way.

**please excuse weird coloring and formatting, blogger is being dumb