EXPERIENCE: THE BEST TEACHER

Tourists can take posed photos, flock to famous buildings and dine at restaurants that offer food they can’t pronounce.

All fine and well, but there’s no better way to dig deep into another culture than what we, as students, are doing right now.

I was thinking this as I saw my classmates whip out their weapons of choice — digital SLRs, camcorders, notepads — on the bus drive from the airport to our London hotel.

The tour guide announced some fact or another. “That’s a story idea,” someone said. Then the guide mentioned some other unrelated yet interesting information. “That’s another great story,” someone else said, shutters clicking and B-roll rolling.

The buildings themselves housed story ideas galore, and the city was so shimmering with promise it could have been mistaken for a flash of a camera.

I scribble these story ideas and names of places down in my notes. “We gotta make these new assignments,” I tell myself as a mental note. “We gotta hit the streets. We only have two full days in this city, and I have a lot to do as managing editor.”

Oh man. That title.

Let’s just put first things first: This trip is an Olympic-sized pool and I have the swimming capacity of a rock. I’ve had editor positions before, but I can safely say I have never handled a task so complicated and demanding as the one that awaited me in London and Paris.

But with the right velocity and support behind it, even rocks can soar.

We have been meeting weekly all the way up until this point, and I have gotten to know nearly every student by name, major and story assignment. I didn’t know it on the bus ride to the hotel, with lenses a-blazing and excitement rising, but some of my classmates would become my best teachers in just a few short days.

More later,

Suzanne Yada
Magazine Journalism
www.suzanneyada.com

CELEBRATING IN SOHO

This photograph is one of many with no reasonable connection to the economy, but to let them walk past me would have been gruesome.

Jodie Vidal, 16 (right), leads her blindfolded classmate, Dyon Braithwaite, along Tottenham Court Road in London on March 21, 2009 in celebration of Braithwaite’s 16th birthday.

Mike Anderson
Photo Editor
Photojournalism

FREE-FLOWING ALCOHOL IN THE UK

Having just turned 20 this past month, I now understand why so many people continue to tell me that they consider their 20th year to be their “worst birthday.” Year 16 means a license and, therefore, a sense of freedom, while year 18 means the responsibilities of adulthood. According to my sister, year 20 simply means 365 more days until you can drink. The saying, “So close, yet so far away”, definitely comes to mind.

Luckily for me, this is not the case in London or Paris. Being one of the youngest members of the Global Media Initiative, the 18 and over legal drinking age enforced in these two countries is certainly an additional perk. I was aware of the lower drinking age before departing on our trip, yet I was still shocked at the extent of their leniency when it comes to the availability of alcohol.

My first surprise came during our ten-hour flight between SFO and Heathrow. When giving us the options of chicken or beef for our dinner meal, they also gave us the option of red or white wine. Now, I know alcohol on flights is not uncommon, but the fact that they offered it openly without checking IDs, seemed a little more lenient than most U.S. airlines.

My second, and biggest, surprise came when I decided to search for a late night snack on our first night staying at our hotel in London. Not only did I find a vending machine full of sweet and salty treats, but I also found a wide range of beverages. Right below the packs of Twix candy bars and chips, were a couple rows of canned beer, available for anyone to take!

I’m not much of a beer or wine girl myself, so I didn’t take advantage of these particular situations, but it has been a unique experience discovering how other countries view the consumption of alcohol. From vending machines full of beer to bars and clubs letting me in without even asking to see an ID, I have decided that the United Kingdom has a much more lenient policy when it comes to alcohol.

Katrina Kane
Photographer
Photojournalism

A DREAM COMES TRUE

A scene from London's Big Ben. Photo Credit: Carlos A. Moreno / GMI

It is said that opportunities like these don't always come true every day in our lives. So when they happen you should take a chance and go for them - and that is what I have done...

...yet again.

After long hours of what seemed endless work before my departure to London, I felt that maybe this trip was not going to be worth it and was not going to secure me some much needed rest.

So far, the last stands true, as for the first, I could not have been any more wrong.

I found my departure to London to be a sweet breeze of fresh air and one where work and play were possible, if you managed your time effectively. It is the first time I have traveled to Europe or for that matter across the Atlantic Ocean. It is still surreal to me that I am here in jolly old England. The feelings and emotions of this trip have not yet sunk completely.

I've seen so many places. London is now my temporary home and can't wait to see what will happen tomorrow as I venture out to London for a second time for a story that will satisfy my needs as a young journalist and as a curious traveler.

My experiences so far have been a mix of accomplishment and doubt on my part. This has definitely made me think about my expectations and readiness in the field. It seems amazing that even after spending so much time in the journalism world that the strange and unusual scare me, yet still entice me as a photojournalist.

Today was one of those days.

Having the chance to speak to the people of London was challenging. It seemed like they were at times uninterested and just dismissive about taking me serious - maybe because I'm not English, I don't know.

I felt like a true foreigner, distant and fascinated with my surroundings. I will admit that it hasn't been easy for me to handle the culture differences here in London. Usually I never have problems talking and explaining to people what my objectives are in the United States. This was expected of course. I will just have to get over these complications and get to it because there is no take two here.

Even after all this time, I still care and still believe in the power of journalism, even when the task at hand seems difficult or unnerving. It might seem like gloom and doom for the print journalism industry but I still see the press playing a very important role in all world communities - London included. This is the time to show people what we are made of.

To be able to cover so dynamic a topic as the global recession for both London and Paris is not only amazing, but astonishing to see how much we all must pitch-in to make this Global Media Initiative project a success for us and for the people back home in San Jose, Calif.

If anything, I can say that this trip so far has given me the right to say that 'I was there' and that I was a journalist, even when times seemed hard for not just journalists everywhere but for all of us economically.

London has called my name and made an impossible dream a reality.

Carlos A. Moreno

Photographer

Photojournalism

SURREAL, BUT FAMILIAR

In anticipation for this trip to Europe, I did extensive research and tried to understand the cities I’d be visiting as much as possible. I lived and breathed Google Earth for weeks. I bought street maps and studied them like textbooks. I even checked out Craigslist international to see what interested the people I’d be interacting with on a daily basis — all the while procrastinating on important school papers and midterms (sorry professors back home).

To say the least, it paid off big time!

Every big city has a hectic heartbeat and when I got separated from my group at the busiest airport in the world I had to find my own way to the hotel. It took all of five minutes to figure it out. London’s intricate and self explanatory subway system, the Underground, or Tube, was a short walk from where I last saw my fellow students. I secured directions and a three-day pass quicker than I even realized.

After 22 stops, one transfer, and meeting three new friends, I arrived safely a block away from my hotel, though it took me 45 minutes to actually find the joint. London is a beautiful, unique city that is big enough to intimidate the savviest of travelers, but it’s also a place that feels somewhat close to home. Aside from the heavy English accents, royal family, century-old buildings and a genuine European glamour, London wouldn’t be a far cry from the wildly enormous cities of the United States.

I’m just starting my journey and I can already say that Londoners respect international tourists in a way that is not only supportive and helpful, but makes you feel comfortable and welcome. I couldn’t expect anything more and would love to stay longer than planned. I’ll be sorry to leave so soon.

John Ellis
Print Journalism

OUT OF PLACE PROTESTERS

A weekend day in a major city is a sight to behold indeed. The city of London today proved no different; the energy was palpable. Tourists and locals alike filled the Tube stations and sidewalks, double-decker buses careened down the street filled with eager travelers and their equally eager cameras. Vendors were doing there best to make each transaction as uniquely memorable as possible for those looking to bring home anecdotal stories on their "perfect purchases." Yes, the usual suspects were all here today. There was, however, another group of people that I almost overlooked.

Prominently situated on the perimeter of Parliament Square near Westminster Abbey, sat 12 to 15 protesters. From what I could tell from their motley encampment of chairs and tents, the protesters were well-settled to make their message a strong one.

These protesters had signs and pictures protesting the wars of the world. Specifically mentioned were the loss of life in Iraq and the Israel/Palestine conflict.

During my observation, there was no dialogue or shouts of opposition to their demonstration. In fact, no one even approached the group. The average spectator just watched from across the street and many took pictures.

What I choose to interpret from this particular response of spectator-inaction to these protesters is that people accept these subjects to be legitimately protested. In other words, I choose to interpret that their inaction affirmed a shared idea with the protesters.

Andrew Martinez
Writer
Magazine Journalism

THE TUBE IS NO PLACE FOR FALLING

Word to the wise, don't fall up the stairs in a London tube station. It will hurt your knees and bruise your ego - unless you have a good friend to laugh it off with you.

Today I wandered around London and explored a city outside of the United States for the first time in my life. My reaction, welcome to the real world, baby. Without the comfort of my trusted companion, my Blackberry, I felt alone in a city with millions of people bustling all around me.

At home I know the routes to all of my favorite destinations as well as which way cars are going to be coming at me if I try to cut across the street when the light is green going in the other direction.

But today, I was lost.

I was also in the way of far too many double-decker buses. For nearly 30 minutes, three of my friends and I tried to find the right platform we needed to be on before we realized we needed to go up the escalator two more levels to get to Leicester Square.

Why were we so foolish? I'm really not sure. Maybe, though, it’s because we are so used to figuring it out on our own. Maybe we were just too scared to look like "tourists." Maybe we really are the typical American stereotype, ignorant and arrogant.

Either way, the longer we stood in one place looking and waiting, the more annoyed stares and harsh whispers were thrown in our direction. All we had to do was ask someone. Once we started asking for help, people were more than willing and much more friendly.

The moral of the story is, don't be afraid to ask for help when you're in new territory. Also, slow down and smell the roses - or else you just might fall and smell the pavement.

Heather Nacht
Magazine Journalism