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  • You’re standing alongside the canal, the air sharp with the chill of winter. Your breath forms clouds in the frigid air as you huddle deeper into your coat, anxiously awaiting the first flower merchant. The stakes are high; if you don’t secure a contract for bulbs today, your chances are gone. It’s Amsterdam in the winter of 1636, and tulips have become the fastest-selling and most expensive commodity in the world.

    A Tulip’s Homeland

    Tulips are famous among the Dutch today, who still have the largest tulip economy worldwide, with over two billion bulbs shipped internationally each year. Tulips also bring a rapid increase in tourism. In 2017, there were a record 1.4 million visitors to see the blooms. But tulips aren’t native to the Netherlands. 

    The history of tulips is as colorful as the flowers themselves. The flowers made a long journey from the fields of Central Asia, first to Austria, then eventually as far as Holland. Tulips are native to Central Asia, predominantly in countries like Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Iran, and the Levant region. The Ottoman Empire presented Austria with the first bulbs brought to Europe. The shape of the flower, resembling the turbans worn by men in the Ottoman Empire, led to the derivation of its Latin name from the Turkish word for turban.

    Travel to Holland

    The vibrant colors of the petals and the unique shape of the flower itself charmed diplomats and wealthy merchants, making the flower popular. These enchanting flowers soon blossomed across the entire continent. Leiden University persuaded Dutch botanist Carolus Clusius to create a botanical garden for the college. In 1593, Clusius planted the first tulips in Holland. He also traded bulbs with friends and colleagues, the appeal for the brightly colored flower growing. The tulip quickly became a status symbol amongst the wealthy, who could show off their wealth with rare and expensive color combinations. 

    The most expensive tulip bulb was the Semper Augustus, a red bulb with white tiger stripes. In fact, the multi-colored bulbs sold the most. They mainly resulted from random occurrences, but they could be cultivated from other tulips in the same family. The streaks made the plants appear more exotic, resulting in higher prices. This effect is caused by a tulip-specific mosaic virus, which also causes flower infertility. With demand for the flower up, prices rose as well, and soon tulips were being sold even before they bloomed. This created the world’s first forward market, in which goods were sold before they were available and exchanged hands through written contracts. The concept of a forward market was revolutionary. It allowed for merchants and buyers to buy and sell goods based on future prices, which was all speculative. This kind of trade was risky and led to an economic bubble that is still widely studied today as an example of the dangers of speculative investment.

    The Tulip Bubble

    In winter 1636-37, tulip prices spiked with these contracts, and tulip bulbs were going as high as 5,000 guilders per bulb, the equivalent of a grand house on the canal. This was a purely speculative market, and the first of its kind. A speculative market happens when consumers purchase a good, hoping its value will increase significantly. The dramatic rise and fall of tulip prices created a financial frenzy. People had mortgaged their homes, sold businesses, and even traded belongings in order to invest in tulip bulbs. During the market crash, many defaulted on loans. Buyers refused to honor their contracts, where they had originally promised 500 or 1,000 guilders for bulbs. This led to many florists and merchants losing out on their investments.

    There wasn’t a major impact on widespread Dutch society, having really only affected the wealthy who could have afforded to get into the business, anyway. The tulip was a symbol of wealth. Because of this, the rich were the most significantly impacted, and a lot of them lost their fortunes. Outside of the tulip bubble, life in the Netherlands went on as normal, without the frenzied crowds of tulip buyers.

    Tulips in Holland Today

    Today, tulips make up a big part of Dutch culture. Every year when the tulips bloom, millions of tourists visit the tulip fields, and florists distribute these tulips all over the world. Despite the crash, tulips seem to be a lucrative business. There are massive flower festivals during the springtime, where the festivities serve as remembrance to the tulipmania of the seventeenth century. Tulips pop up everywhere in Dutch culture, from holiday activities to massive floats, showing the passion the Dutch have for the vibrant flower.

    Besides their economic and cultural significance, tulips have inspired a wealth of artistic expression. Dutch artists of the Golden Age, such as Rembrandt and Vermeer, often included tulips in their paintings. This legacy continues today, with tulips appearing in contemporary art, fashion, and design. Their imagery can be found in tourist shops and planted near the canals, inspiring artists from all over the world.

    The impact of tulipmania can also be seen in modern financial markets. It is a widely studied phenomenon that provides a valuable insight into speculative bubbles for investors and economists. The frenzy and subsequent crash showcase the dangers of speculation and the importance of market regulation. Even though centuries have passed, the tulip bubble of 1637 remains an increasingly relevant part of history, reminding us of the complexities and risks of financial markets.

    In conclusion, the story of the tulip is one of beauty, innovation, and resilience. From their origins in the mountains of Central Asia to their status as a cultural and economic icon in the Netherlands, tulips have captured the imagination of people around the world. As we look to a greener future, the tulip will undoubtedly continue to bloom brightly in gardens, markets, and hearts around the globe.

  • Palestinian embroidery, called tatreez in Arabic, has a long-standing history with the Palestinian people and their connection to the land of historical Palestine. Tatreez is an important symbol of Palestinian resilience and resistance to the ongoing Israeli occupation, and is common throughout Palestine and amongst its diaspora.

    Tatreez has origins that dates back to the Canaanite era over 3,000 years ago, but it really began to be am identifiable part of Palestinian culture during the mid-1800s. It has been passed down by mothers through their daughters for generations, evolving over time from being a symbol of regional pride to a symbol of Palestinian nationalism.

    The patterns and colors used on traditional dresses identified where the woman was from. Early inspiration came from landscapes around the villages, with mountains common in cities like Hebron, and palm trees common in Ramallah. Ramallah was also known for its use of a bright deep red color in its stitching. In Bethlehem, the star of Bethlehem was a common motif. These Levantine symbols were understood to function as matrilineal heritage but also represented trade routes and textile developments. Traditionally, unmarried women used blue thread, married women used red, and widowed women stitched over the red with blue thread. Cross-stitching is the most renowned form of Palestinian tatreez, but other common stitches include manajel (connecting stitch), tashreem (patchwork stitch), and jadleh (hemming stitch).

    Because of the different symbols and patterns, tatreez represents the identity of Palestine and its people. Women came together and created places of community as they stitched in each other’s homes, often with their daughters. With limited transportation around parts of Palestine, each region had a distinct way of embroidering their clothing that represented this identity and community.

    Women stitched embroidery onto traditional Palestinian dresses called thobes. The chest, sleeves, and cuffs were covered with embroidery, using cotton or silk thread. On special occasions, golden or silver threads were used to embroider intricate designs into their dresses. The designs and colors indicated the woman’s regional identity, as well as marital and economic status. Wedding dresses had layers upon layers of embroidered material woven with coral beads, and gold and silver coins.

    After the Nakba in 1948, when 700,000 Palestinians were displaced by Zionist militias, tatreez became a symbol of Palestinian resilience and resistance. Women continued to wear their thobes as a statement of the existence of the villages that were inevitably destroyed or occupied by Israeli settlers. After 1948, the Palestinian flag could not be shown, so women began to weave it and its colors into their clothing. In refugee camps, a new style known as the New Dress emerged that reflected designs from all over Palestine, making a new kind of dress that was unmistakably Palestinian but from no identifiable region — simply Palestinian. Skills continue to be preserved and passed down from mothers to daughters, and organizations like the Thobe Project in the United States also educate and teach tatreez skills across the diaspora.

    Palestinian embroidery plays a key role in the legacy of Palestine traditions that would otherwise have been lost in the diaspora. It represents a means of unifying Palestinians, as well as continues to show their resilience. Prior to the expulsion of almost three quarters of a million people, Palestine was a state full of life, culture, and traditions that continue to persist despite the goals of Zionism. Even down to their clothing, Palestinians have always had a deep connection to the land of their birthright.

    Sources

    Bayt Al Fann. (n.d.). The Art of Tatreez — Palestinian Embroidery. Retrieved January 21, 2024, from https://www.baytalfann.com/post/the-art-of-tatreez-palestinian-embroidery

    Handmade Palestine. (2022, May 26). Traditional Embroidery: A Brief History of Palestinian Tatreez. Retrieved January 21, 2024, from https://handmadepalestine.com/blogs/news/tatreez

    PalQuest. (n.d.). Palestinian Embroidery. Retrieved January 21, 2024, from https://www.palquest.org/en/highlight/14497/palestinian-embroidery

    Tatreez Archive. (n.d.). Homepage. Retrieved January 21, 2024, from https://tatreezarchive.org/

    UNESCO. (n.d.). The art of embroidery in Palestine, practices, skills, knowledge and rituals — intangible heritage — Culture Sector. Retrieved January 21, 2024, from https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/the-art-of-embroidery-

  • In the late sixteenth century, the myth of a golden city in the Spanish New World captivated all. For Europeans, finding the city meant unimaginable riches, even more unimaginable than what they already experienced in their exploration of the new continent. On his deathbed, a Spaniard named Juan Martinez told of a city and nearby lake filled with gold, with so much abundance of the metal that the indigenous people tossed it into the lake during religious ceremonies. His story fascinated Sir Walter Raleigh, an English explorer popularly known in the United States for his discovery and subsequent settlement in present-day North Carolina. People have been fascinated by the myth of El Dorado for centuries, and it has become synonymous with an unachievable metaphorical goal. But where did it originate from? In this article, we’ll explore the origins of the myth itself, as well as the impact it has had on the continent and the values it represents.

    The Origins of El Dorado

    The indigenous people of the Americas had a different relationship with gold than the Europeans did. Throughout the continent, gold was plentiful and not used to convey wealth. Instead, gold was used in many rituals and to showcase the status of the elite. Since gold was so accessible, Europeans began to fantasize about the immense wealth they could create by bringing it back to Europe.

    The Muisca people, an indigenous tribe near modern-day Bogota, had a unique ceremony to crown their chief, which involved coating their new ruler in a layer of fine golden dust, then washing it off in the waters of Lake Guatavita. As he bathed, golden objects were thrown into the lake as offerings to the gods. In 1638, Juan Rodriguez Freyle, a Spaniard born in the New Kingdom of Granada, wrote of the ceremony using the term El Rey Dorado to refer to the king.

    Prior to the Spanish invasion of the Americas, gold was primarily used to affirm the status of the elite. The Spanish noted the indigenous use and abundance of gold long before the first stories of El Dorado came to be. In various indigenous cultures, gold also held many spiritual properties, and were used extensively in Pre-Columbian art. The abundance of gold and other precious gems, such as emeralds, lead Spaniards to believe in a city of gold.

    The Muisca people were expert goldsmiths, able to create intricate pieces of art with the metal. They were able to make sophisticated pieces of jewelry and headpieces that normally would have withstood the test of time. Many of these artifacts, when discovered, were melted down into ingots to be used as currency. The insatiable greed that the Spaniards came with transformed indigenous cultural practices into a quest for a city of gold that would cost many lives and lead one man to execution, all in the search for El Dorado.

    The Search for El Dorado

    Many explorers sought the city of Manõa, where El Dorado was believed to exist, and many lost their lives. After the Incan Empire (modern day Peru) was conquered in the sixteenth century by Francisco Pizarro, the immense wealth that came out of it inspired more people to search for El Dorado. In 1540, Spanish explorers Gonzalo Pizarro, the half-brother to Francisco Pizarro, and Francisco de Orellana led an expedition to explore the lands to the east. They left the settlement of Quito (modern day Ecuador) and mapped most of northern South America.

    Eventually, Pizarro dropped out and went home, with de Orellana continuing the expedition by himself. Today, de Orellana is credited with the discovery of the Amazon River, though there are many indigenous cultures and traditions that show that the river was known and used by the indigenous population prior to this expedition. He named the river after the myth of an all-woman warrior tribe known as the Amazons, since the expedition was attacked by woman warriors.

    Another notable expedition was led by Sir Walter Raleigh, a British explorer who is well-known in the United States for his settlement of Roanoke. Raleigh was a close acquaintance with Queen Elizabeth I, and convinced her he could find the lost city of gold that was rumored to exist in the Southern New World. At the time, colonization of the New World was in full swing, and many explorers led expeditions throughout the continent to claim more land for royalty back in Europe, as well as gaining more wealth for the explorers themselves. Raleigh’s expeditions were part of the larger European scramble for wealth following the conquest of the Incan Empire, and the riches this conquest brought Spain.

    Raleigh eventually led two failed expeditions, one in 1595 and another in 1617. On his second expedition, there was a clash with Spanish explorers, leading to Raleigh’s son being murdered. Raleigh returned to England where he was executed under orders of King James for inciting violence against Spaniards.

    The explorers never discovered the city of Manõa, or the mythical city of El Dorado. They did, however, find Lake Guatavita, the site of the religious ceremonies held by the Muisca people, in 1545. They attempted to drain the lake, and found countless golden artifacts lining the shore, supporting the legends told by the descendants of the Muisca people. This discovery did not lead to El Dorado.

    These expeditions led to the myth only growing in South America, with maps being produced at the time with El Dorado marked in various locations, such as Lake Parime. This made people believe that the location had been confirmed, and many traveled throughout the region to see the city themselves.

    For over two centuries, the myth of El Dorado captivated Europeans arriving in the region, and they truly believed this city of immense wealth existed. While the European explorers failed to find El Dorado, their relentless search led to profound consequences for the indigenous populations of South America.

    The Impact on Indigenous Populations

    The myth of El Dorado remains a foundational myth of the Americas, but it also highlights obsessive quests and colonial violence. During the brutal colonization of the Americas that led to indigenous genocide, rumors of a kingdom abundant in gold and precious stone only encouraged the European mindset of individualism, greed, and brutality that they brought with them to the continent.

    Despite never being found, the myth of El Dorado continues to glorify the invasion of the continent that displaced countless indigenous lives and had little regard for the environment they were exploiting. The search for wealth that was not explicitly theirs, but they felt they were entitled to remains a constant in modern Western imperialism, which has now spread all over the world.

    The indigenous cultures, traditions, and legends that were destroyed during this genocide are now lost, despite a small amount of the population still surviving, usually in the mountainous regions the Spaniards could not reach. 

    The myth of El Dorado incited violence even in the most rural parts of South America, with precious artifacts being stolen from indigenous communities that did not have a means to defend themselves against the brutality of Europeans and the diseases they brought with them.

    These expeditions brought European war customs that indigenous communities were not used to, including but not limited to the targeting and killing of men and boys within their communities and the rape of their women, for the gold in the village Europeans believed was theirs.

    In 2021, a photo taken from the International Space Station showed areas of gold near the Amazon River, but these were later determined to be extensive and illegal gold mining operations that were devastating the Amazon forest and taking advantage of the indigenous communities in the area.

    The rate of forest loss has more than tripled since gold prices rose in 2008, mostly driven by these illegal mining operations that benefit those of European descent in the Americas. These operations take place with the continued theft of indigenous lands and erasure of communities. Even today, colonization continues to have devastating effects on the continent.

    The Role of El Dorado in Media & Metaphors

    Today, El Dorado is used as a metaphor for an unattainable quest. It is a common theme in various artistic projects and mediums, inspiring countless writers, movie directors, musicians, and even game designers.

    El Dorado tends to be shown as a mythical place of unimaginable riches, such as the Fountain of Youth, The Holy Grail, or Shangri-La. All these myths bear some resemblance to each other, but also showcase the European’s insatiable quest for wealth and discovery. The story of El Dorado represents something that may not even exist, representing true love, heaven, happiness, or even success.


    The myth of El Dorado was largely discredited by the 19th century, and the number of expeditions fell as more and more realized the city did not exist. Today, El Dorado remains both a metaphor for an unattainable quest, as well as a dark story of the colonization of the American continent and the values it brought.

    Modern-day gold work in Colombia remains unparalleled, and the shiny element still holds significance in indigenous cultures of the region. The quality of the metal and the techniques used to craft artistic pieces are considered to be the most exceptional in the world, but now that wealth is in the hands of European descendants rather than the indigenous communities.

    The city of gold has transformed South America to be a center for greed and consumerism that is crucial to modern societies that descended from colonization efforts. The myth of El Dorado serves as a cautionary tale about the destructive nature of greed and the exploitation of both people and resources. As modern illegal mining operations continue to devastate the Amazon and displace indigenous communities, the lessons of El Dorado remain more relevant than ever.

  • The night air was still crisp with the cold of winter, and the cart driver huddled underneath his cloak. The only thing lighting his path—and keeping him warm—was the flame of the lantern that sat next to him in the seat. He wouldn’t dare draw attention to himself on these dark roads that were leading him further from the Papal State and closer to his goal. He had a mission tonight that would bring a famous Florentine man back home. Concealed in a bale of hay behind him was the body of Michelangelo. 

    Born in 1475, Michelangelo today is one of the most well-known Italian sculptors, painters, architects, and poets of the High Renaissance period. He was born in the Republic of Florence, and achieved fame early in his life. Despite being one of the highest-achieving artists, it is what happened after his death that makes Michelangelo stand out the most.

    By the end of his life, Michelangelo had been living in Rome for three decades. Despite being wealthy and a prominent figure in Florence, Michelangelo despised the Medici's rule, and designed city fortifications to keep them out of the city between 1528 and 1529. In 1530, the Medici regained power and Michelangelo went into hiding. He decided to move to Rome, gaining citizenship in 1537.

    During his time in Rome, Michelangelo created The Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel, and other notable works. He handled many architectural projects in Rome, such as Capitoline Hill and the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore. In 1546, the pope appointed him as the architect of St. Peter’s Basilica.

    In February 1564, Michelangelo’s passing left behind various unfinished works and created uncertainty about where his body would be laid to rest. Pope Pius IV erected a special monumental tomb in St. Peter’s Basilica, and there was a lavish state funeral conducted in his honor.

    Lionardo Buonarroti, the nephew and heir of Michelangelo, knew that his uncle wanted to be buried in his home of Florence. Despite this, Rome refused to have the body transferred.

    Working with Duke Cosimo I de Medici, Lionardo conspired to have the body stolen from the crypt in Rome and transported to the Duchy of Florence. Both men wanted to honor Michelangelo, but also wanted Florence to be the resting place of the legendary artist.

    Though we know Italy is unified today, this wasn’t the case during the Italian Renaissance. Florence and Rome were considered to be two separate kingdoms, one ruled by the Medicis and the other ruled by the Pope. Having an important figure buried in the kingdom meant having a source of civic pride and political power. Michelangelo himself had a strong desire for his own legacy to endure, and he depicted this in various self-portraits in his works, primarily in the Vatican.

    On a late night in early March, Lionardo and a singular bodyguard entered the Santi Apostoli church in Rome. Outside, a driver waited with a cart filled with hay. After an exorbitant funeral, the Pope commissioned a tomb where Michelangelo was laid to rest. Together, Lionardo and the bodyguard carefully extracted the body from the tomb and hid it in the bale of hay. Only the driver and the bodyguard would return with the body, while Lionardo would find a different way to return to Florence.

    They set off into the night on a 280 kilometer journey, roughly 175 miles. They completed the journey in four days, and when the body arrived in Florence, people were shocked at the state of the body. Legends spread about the bodies of saints in Renaissance Italy. Stories stated that a body of a saint would never decay, and would still smell fresh. Although Michelangelo had been dead for over twenty days, onlookers were astonished to see that his body had not decayed and there was no smell when they removed it from the hay. This cemented Michelangelo’s importance and legacy in Italian history, and proved the significance of bringing him back to Florence.

    In a second extravagant ceremony in his home, they honored Michelangelo and eventually laid him to rest in Santa Croce. His monumental tomb was designed by Giorgio Vasari, with three intertwined laurel wreaths representing painting, sculpture, and architecture, the three mediums of art Michelangelo left a lasting impression on.

    This story shows us the complex relationship between death, fame, and legacy. When someone as famous as Michelangelo passes, their body is a treasure that many seek. Though the story of Michelangelo’s last journey seems amusing to most, it shows how the world strives to possess pieces of greatness, long after the artist is gone. Though the soul has passed, his fame remains in the great art we still have today, a legacy that has lasted longer than most will ever achieve.

  • Florence is a city where every street whispers a love letter from the past. It creates a sense of romanticism and inspiration in even the least-creative hearts. The day I stepped off the train in Florence ended up being one of the hottest days of the summer. Still, my body slick with sweat and my shoulders aching, I found myself content with getting lost in the streets to my hostel, savoring the sights and sounds of the city.

    Any artist, history lover, or art connoisseur knows the story of Florence, but it is a completely unique experience to actually walk through the streets itself. Florence has been home to Rafael, Donatello, Botticelli, Giotto, Da Vinci, and many more famous names. Florence is also famous for being the home of the famous Medici family, a powerful political dynasty of the Kingdom of Italy. The city is well known for being the birthplace of the Italian Renaissance.

    For travelers obsessed with history like I am, you know that getting to learn the stories behind the places you visit is one of the best parts about traveling. Here’s some of my favorite places in Florence to experience the history and the allure of the beautiful city.

    Le Gallerie degli Uffizi

    Opening Hours: 8:15am - 9.30pm

    Tickets: €25

    You’ll find yourself in awe at the attention to detail that went into creating the present-day Uffizi Gallery. The building itself was originally built for use as office space in the 13th century, but the Medici’s love for art quickly overshadowed any official meeting. Art was how the Medici family displayed their power and wealth. Murals and carvings cover the walls, and visitors might feel overwhelmed trying to take it all in.

    For those who thoroughly enjoy art, I would recommend having a few specific pieces that you would classify as a must-see. Otherwise, you could spend hours wandering the halls, and end up missing the things you would’ve enjoyed the most. The Uffizi Gallery isn’t just a museum, it’s a journey through the works of famous Renaissance masterminds.

    Palazzo Vecchio

    Opening Hours: 9am - 7pm

    Tickets: €10, reduced ticket €8 for adults under 25

    A skyline staple along Florence, the Palazzo Vecchio is a must-see for lovers of grand Italian architecture. Translated to “Old Palace” from Italian, the Palazzo Vecchio began construction in 1299, and has experienced several significant changes in that time. In 1540, the official seat of the Duke was moved to the Palazzo, signaling the security of Medici rule in the city. 

    Walking through the halls of this beautiful castle, you’ll find lesser known works from famous artists. Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo both have frescos in the palace, facing each other. Michelangelo never finished his fresco because the Pope commissioned him to paint the Sistine Chapel in Rome instead. Knowing that story alone made me want to visit the palace, but the experience feels surreal. 

    Each room is a grand piece of art, sometimes entirely different from the room before it. I spent hours in the halls, eventually making my way into the tall tower that offers a beautiful view of the Florentine skyline and nearby Tuscany hills. Gazing out at the buildings, I could see how this place could inspire so many people to create such beautiful pieces of art.

    Ponte Vecchio

    Opening Hours: 8am - 5pm

    Tickets: Free to visit, prices vary at shops

    As the sun set over the Arno River, it drapes one of Florence’s most prominent bridges in warm sunlight the color of honey. The magic of the city really shines during this Golden Hour, watching buildings come to life under a gentle evening glow. Ponte Vecchio was almost like a happy accident for me, stumbling through the streets without a sense of direction. The name means “Old Bridge” in Italian, and it is a medieval stone arch bridge with a marketplace built on top. It is also the only bridge in Florence spared from destruction during World War II.

    While the bridge is unique today, building shops along bridges was once common practice. Typically, butchers, tanners, and farmers occupied the shops. Nowadays, jewelers, art dealers, and souvenir sellers occupy the Ponte Vecchio. You’ll be surrounded by tourists and street peddlers looking to distract you with a toy that shoots high in the air. Walking through Ponte Vecchio feels like being transported back in time to medieval Italy, and getting to experience the hustle and bustle of a Florentine marketplace. It’s here you’ll fall in love with Florence, and get to experience one of the many wonders the city offers.

    Accademia di Belle Arti di Firenze

    Opening Hours: 9am - 6.45pm

    Tickets: €16

    One of the most popular destinations in Florence, the Accademia di Belle Arti di Firenze, has hosted many artists during its long history, remaining a key institution in art culture. The Academy, which means “academy and company of the arts of drawing” in Italian, originally founded in 1563. There were two parts: a guild for all working artists, and an academy to train a more select group of artists.

    Most members of the Accademia were male, with notable names being Michelangelo, Bonzino and Giorgio Vasari. Artemisia Genitleschi was the first woman to be admitted. Today, the adjoining Galleria houses the original David statue. The halls of the academy flow with creative energy. It is evident how young artists over the centuries were inspired to perfect their craft within the very halls that now showcase their efforts. In rooms where soft sunlight bathes the art, it’s easy to imagine the artists who once walked the halls, allowing beauty and inspiration to fill every corner.

    New Generation Hostel Florence

    Price: €60-70 per night

    I cannot talk about the history of Florence without shouting out my hotel as a unique historical spot you have to experience. This hostel is located in the chiesa di San Salvatore di Ognissanti, or “Church of All Saints,” which the Franciscans originally built in the 1250s. 

    You live in older rooms, and there’s not much frill, but the grounds are beautiful. It’s worth noting that Botticelli, Carolina Bonaparte, and Amerigo Vespucci, the explorer who America is named after, are also buried there. Staying in a hostel with so much history and cultural relevance allows travelers to have a unique experience where every wall has witnessed centuries of art, faith, and discovery. 

    --

    Florence was a dream destination for me, and I’m excited to make plans to visit it again one day, for a longer period. The energy in Florence was so inspiring, and I spent a lot of time writing, reflecting, and journaling during my time there. Being surrounded by so much history was one of my favorite things about being in Florence, but it felt extra special as an artist. I could connect with my personal fascination with Florence, as well as relate to the writers and creatives who have come here before me.

    If you’re a history lover who likes to travel, follow along with me for my new series of travel recs for travelers just like you, where I recommend the historical goodies of the places I’ve visited (or would love to visit)!

  • Over a thousand years ago, a Muslim army landed at Gibraltar on April 30, 711 CE, and launched a seven-year military campaign that brought most of the Iberian peninsula under control of the Umayyad caliphate. The army, led by commander Tariq ibn Ziyadled, would gain control of major cities in the area as far north as the Pyrenees Mountains and southern France. The borders of al-Andalus, as the caliphate would eventually be called, would shift over the centuries before falling in 1492 to Castilian and Aragonese armies. During the 750 year rule in the Iberian peninsula, al-Andalus became a cultural melting pot of Muslim, Jewish, and Christian cultures, creating a lasting impact on science, art, and philosophy that would eventually grow into the Italian Renaissance.

    Map of al-Andalus. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art

    The Unique Andalusian Culture

    Textile Fragment, 13th Century. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art

    An Exchange of Knowledge and Ideas

    Madinat al-Zahra. Source: Metropolitan Museum of Art

    A Lasting Legacy

    Andalusian astrolabe. Source: Wikimedia.

  • Overview of Herculaneum

    Domestic altar in Herculaneum. Source: Wikimedia

    The Eruption and Immediate Aftermath

    The Forum in Pompeii, with Mt Vesuvius in the background. Source: Wikimedia

    Rediscovery and Archaeological Significance

    Photo by Skyler Smith on Unsplash

    Legacy and Modern-Day Relevance

    Fresco in Herculaneum. Source: Wikimedia

Essays

  • I grew up in a conservative small town in the southwest, meaning that my history lessons started with the Revolutionary War and ended with WWII. The first time I ever learned about the Civil Rights movement was at a museum dedicated to the era in Birmingham, Alabama. That’s right — to learn about some of the most important history in our nation, I had to cross the country and stumble upon it myself.

    History is a very broad subject to be interested in. Some people can talk for hours about World War II, the Titanic, or Tudor England. Even with all that knowledge, there is still more history to learn. Last year, I read Take My Hand by Dolen Perkins-Valdez, which focuses on the forced sterilization of Black and brown bodies by the American government. I focused my learning efforts on Black history in America, which has been lost to time or hidden across the country in pursuit of white supremacy. Therefore, I wanted to challenge myself in my reading habits: find a book focused on Black history for each decade of the twentieth century.

    If you’re interested in my picks, you can see them here. This article is not a book review, but an insight into what I learned during this reading challenge and how I’ve used it to grow as a human.

    When I started this challenge, I decided not to look up the race of the author beforehand, focusing only on the stories they were telling. Because of this, I did have some books written by white authors on my list. In hindsight, I wish I would’ve found books written by all Black authors. This is largely because I didn’t enjoy the way the storyline went in the books written by white authors. They usually ended with a white savior complex, or Black characters forgiving white characters for slavery or injustice of some sort. Both of which are harmful lessons to take away from this challenge.

    Some of my favorite books in this challenge (The Great Mrs. Elias and Sisters in Arms) showed the resiliency of Black women despite people stepping in their way. I could cheer on the all-Black battalion of the Women’s Army in World War II as they single-handedly helped deliver lost mail to soldiers fighting the front lines. I dived into archives of the New York Public Library to learn more about Hannah Elias, the real-estate mogul of early 1900s that paved the way to Harlem being a predominantly Black neighborhood today.

    And during my reading, I learned about the atrocities that Black people were forced to face in the twentieth century, issues which still dominate BIPOC lives today. In The Black Kids by Christina Hammonds Reed, a Black teenager navigates the streets of Los Angeles during the Rodney King protests of 1992. As I read this book, I was acutely reminded of the more recent George Floyd protests, where a Black man was mercilessly murdered by police in the streets and justice was not served. I could so clearly piece together the similarities, and it was shocking that this is a prevalent discussion and fight that still plagues our country today.

    I read more about police brutality in online articles and other nonfiction pieces such as America on Fire, which discusses over-policing in BIPOC communities and the way white rebellions are shaped to be nationalist necessities (eg. Boston Tea Party) while Black rebellions are labeled riots. It opened my eyes to the history behind the horrific realities that BIPOC communities continue to face every single day.

    Man raises his fist during a Black Lives Matter Protest in Paris, France. 2020. Photo by Thomas De Luze. Sourced from Unsplash.

    The biggest takeaway from this challenge is the blatant mistreatment of Black communities in regular life. Hannah Elias, a wealthy businesswoman in Gilded Age New York, had her door beaten down by the police and dragged out of her home, even though law stated she was safe from arrest if she did not leave her house. Black characters are sneered at for the most mundane things, such as a wealthy Black character in The Davenports is insulted by a sales assistant who insists she can’t afford anything in the store (spoiler alert: she can). Military rank is broken by white soldiers who refuse to see Black women as their superior in Sisters in Arms.

    In every single book I read, the resiliency of Black people has shined through the pages every time. Where doors were closed in their faces, they broke them down. Hannah Elias was a sex worker who learned how to invest in real estate, becoming the richest Black woman of her time, less than forty years after slavery ended. The Ref sisters, after being coercively sterilized in their early teens, ended up winning a class-action lawsuit in the United States District Court for the District of Columbia, putting an end to government-funded sterilization abuse which also included indigenous women and the women of Puerto Rico.

    Mary Alice and Minnie Lee Relf, 1973. Printed in Ebony Magazine, Sourced From Natural Museum of American History Behring Center

    I am now acutely aware of the way the country has systematically abused Black communities in the entirety of our nation’s history. From a vast African diaspora that can never trace their roots to the War on Drugs after the CIA flooded crack into Black neighborhoods. It is hidden underneath most of what we are taught on the surface and how our world works today.

    This challenge made me see history from a new perspective. I dove deeper into research about why things are the way they are, while opening myself up to look at my life and how my whiteness benefits from that. It feels like my duty to learn what I can and unravel my own behaviors in order to fight the systemic injustice that I have never experienced, and never will.

    To learn about America is to learn about Black history. We did not become the country we are today on the backs of white enslavers or segregationists. They built this nation on the hard work of Black bodies that didn’t even ask to come here. This was a mentally exhausting challenge to partake in, and it took over a year to finish. But I am privileged enough to have the ability to close the books and step away from these situations, and I am proud of the BIPOC communities and activists who continue to fight every day for a greater version of America.

  • I have always had difficulty celebrating the holidays. This comes from being part of a dysfunctional family and one day losing that family entirely. The holiday season quickly becomes a fight to be involved in someone else’s holiday traditions, and I felt so much sadness around celebrating that I had to find a way to celebrate Christmas that was uniquely my own.

    Why a book?

    Choosing the Right Book

    Sharing Stories

  • Before I even left my house to the airport, I lost my wallet. I frantically searched my bedroom, unpacked my entire bag just to repack it, and eventually called my friend Matthew not once, not twice, but three times before he picked up. “Just breathe,” he told me. “You’ve got Apple Pay.”

    I had spent so much time looking for this wallet that I no longer had the time to take the hour and a half long train ride from my Harlem apartment to JFK International Airport, so I had to begrudgingly order a taxi to pick me up from my apartment. As the car took me across the bridge to Queens, I remembered one more place in my backpack I could look. Lo and behold, there was my wallet.

    I think any big step in someone’s life is going to be scary and nerve-wracking, and on this month-long trip, I was going to be entirely out of my comfort zone. I’d traveled solo before, and even had international trips. I’d spent a week each in Colombia, France, and Morocco. This is what I tried to tell myself when I thought of my nervousness. But, my consciousness would always counter, you always stayed in one place, never hopped to different cities.

    This was that grand Interrail trip I had dreamed of for years. Finally, after spending a year teaching in an NYC classroom, I had saved up enough money to embark on a month-long train journey through Europe. I spent months researching the best way to fly into Europe, fly home, the best deal for the Interrail pass. And this was my last year eligible for the Youth ticket, so it was now or never.

    As the car took me to the airport, I felt like I was stepping into the unknown, unmoored but eager. I was nervous about language barriers, things going wrong, and pickpockets. I worried about being a solo female traveler on a continent all on my own. The fear was something that held me back for a long time. But I would come to think back on this trip as one of the most life-changing experiences, and how it undoubtedly reshaped my confidence, identity, and approach to life.

    The Journey Begins

    I purchased a one-month, ten-day Interrail pass a few months before the trip, on a spring sale. This meant that I could have ten travel days within a thirty-day period, and as long as trains were taken on the same day, it didn’t matter where I went. This is how I included a few day trips into my journey, but I had major stopping points I wanted to visit. The only rule I had was I had to be in London on July 19th, the day my flight took off from Gatwick back to the United States.

    I flew into Paris, but at the last minute purchased FlixBus tickets to Amsterdam, deciding to start my journey there instead. Throughout the continent, FlixBus tickets are cheap and allowed me to save travel days. After Amsterdam, I went to Lyon. My next stop was in Italy, but spent several hours in Zurich before entering the country later that night. In Italy, I hit the major cities: Milan, Florence, Rome, Naples, and Venice.

    The last part of my journey was a blur of countries: from Venice to Vienna and then Munich, followed by Luxembourg and finally London.

    Each city brought with it a fresh experience and memory for me to look back on. I could speak endlessly about the coffee shops of Amsterdam, karaoke in Milan, and exploring endless archaeological sites in Naples. Navigating the train systems felt like second nature by the end of the trip, with fond memories of Trenitalia, and a personal vendetta against the DeutchBahn. 

    When it came to languages, I thrived the most. I’ve always loved languages, and strive to communicate in the native tongue as much as I’m able in short spans of time. In France, I ordered all meals in French (much to their dismay). In Morocco, I picked up “hello” “thank you” and the Islamic greeting for each time of the day. Since I already have a general grasp of Spanish, Italian easily flowed afterwards. In Lyon and Zurich, I already could speak French. In Germany, they laughed at my German but appreciated the effort.

    I spent hours in the back of a FlixBus practicing my pronunciation with Dutch locals. Italians were excited to hear their native tongue roll from American lips. That, I think, was the best feeling. To be the American that broke the stereotype to not care about culture or assimilate. To be surrounded by other Americans and be the only one who could say something in the language. I became the person who ordered food in groups or asked for directions, and it made me feel like I was important.

    Shifting Perspectives

    When I landed in Paris, I took a car to the bus station located right on the Seine. From there, I boarded a FlixBus that would take me to Amsterdam. The first several hours on the bus I spent napping, watching movies, and reading. When the bus pulled over at a rest stop, I took the opportunity to stretch my legs and venture outside. From there, I saw Yelly. I thought she looked cool, a creative type that I would get along with if we had met in New York. And besides, I reminded myself, wasn’t the purpose of the trip that I got out of my comfort zone? So I approached her, and it started a four-hour conversation that made the rest of the bus ride simply fly by. This mindset started to flow easily by the end of my trip, and I made friends easily in most places I went.

    So many people and conversations stand out to me from this trip, and I still keep up with a lot of the people I meet while traveling. The trip inspired me to be more social, get comfortable meeting new people from a variety of cultures. From this FlixBus conversation to singing One Direction in Milan with strangers, to even experiencing some romance, I was so much more social and made so many connections and had such interesting conversations I get to keep with me for life.

    While these experiences definitely quelled my anxiety around social situations, I discovered a lot about my values and learning how to communicate my boundaries. I was a lot more confident in myself and my own identity, because for the first time in my life, I was getting along with people just for being who I was and not what they expected me to be. I could be anyone I wanted—and I swaggered into a version of myself that was beautifully, authentically me. A writer, teacher, intellectual. Someone who was a joy to be around and let loose.

    Romantically, it was interesting to play with different relationships. I had not one, but two of those “all night around the city” kind of dates during my trip, allowing myself to experience a romantic connection in places I didn’t expect. And while neither of those relationships were eventually pursued, it taught me a lot about who I am. Most importantly, I realized I can still experience romantic things after losing what felt like one of those once-in-a-lifetime connections. Having two across the continents felt as if I had an entire world to explore.

    What Happens Next

    I can feel an air of confidence around me now that I’ve been back in New York. I say hello to more people on the street. After some resistance, they’ve started to say hello back. I’ve met my neighbors. I go to parties and meet people, but haven’t quite felt a connection like the ones on my trip.

    A month after my trip, I spent a month in Barcelona completing a TEFL certification course. It gave me my first taste of living abroad. I lived in a flat where I paid rent, and I grocery shopped with my roommate. At night, I went to bars with my friends. My confidence grew, as did my Spanish, and I ended the trip by visiting two other Spanish cities, and returned home, once again, entirely new.

    I’ve learned this summer that I can do scary things. I can ride trains all over a continent, learn a new language, and most importantly, I learned I am a charismatic, fun, overall likable person. I love the small things in love and love with my whole heart. I’m serious and strong and capable of achieving even the things that do not seem possible.

    This summer, I learned that one day, someone will come along to love me in the way I can love them. Until then, the world is mine to explore and experience. Community is mine to build and treasure. Uncertainty always comes with doing new things, but it’s the action of doing those things that make you feel your best. Today, I stand before you, confident in myself and what I value. I have boundaries that keep me safe, but I still allow myself to feel. With new upcoming opportunities, I know I will only regret not taking the chances out of fear.

    In the cab on the way to the airport, I sent a picture of my wallet to Matthew. “Guess where this was,” I text.

    “Now that we got that freak-out out of the way, have a great trip!” was his response.

  • I have always been a learner. I strive to discover new things, try new hobbies, indulge in new foods. I find cultures outside my own fascinating, as well as the history that people have lost throughout generations. As a teacher, I have to think about how to introduce topics and themes, and regardless of age group, it always falls back to one thing: storytelling. To me, fiction has become a gateway to learning something new, and my reading habits have adjusted to quench my curiosity when researching new topics. It has allowed me to experience moments of history lost through time, or recurring themes of injustice that I, as a white-passing reader, will probably never experience. So historical fiction is a crucial tool in not just understanding and connecting with different parts of history, but allowing readers to analyze and engage with the world around them in a new way.

    • Read 12 nonfiction books

    • Read 12 books by _____________ (Black/Palestinian/Asian/etc) authors

    • Read new books that align with current events

    • Indigenous history for Thanksgiving

    • Pagan history for Halloween/Christmas

    • Try a decades challenge — read a book from each decade of a specific timeline

    • Black Historical Fiction Decades Reading Challenge

    • From Nakba to Gaza Decades Reading Challenge

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