Omnibus

The city of San Juan, Puerto Rico is filled with beautiful beaches and vibrant culture. From the food to the history, there is never a dull moment. (Photo by Lanie Phillips)

 

By Lanie Phillips

Arrival

Stepping out of the airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico, you would have no idea that the territory is technically a part of the United States. A wave of humidity hit my face as I walked through the door and sounds of horns honking, taxi drivers yelling in Spanish and conversations of confused tourists immediately filled the air.

My group of 15 friends was herded down to a cab station past the crowds and piled into a 12-passenger van. The driver, Victor, asked several of us to “duck down” because the airport supervisor did not allow the drivers to cram so many people into a cab. We immediately complied, as he was saving the group a lot of money. The broken English that characterized the conversation that followed was foreshadowing the rest of the trip. As he took us to the house we had rented, he spoke about local tourist attractions. He said, “Be careful of the beach vendors, they will rip you off,” and told us “not to leave until we tried ‘tostones’ or garlic plantains.” We drove along the shore of the ocean and could see the sandy beach and palm trees along the way. As we pulled up to our house, Victor gave us his card and encouraged us to call him if we ever needed a ride.

The house we had rented was painted white with blue trim. It had gates that surrounded it, lined with barbed wire. Across the street stood a glass mansion accompanied with three around-the-clock guards that we would become friendly with as the week went on. Their presence also made our parents breathe a sigh of relief, especially after hearing of the barbed wire fence. We later found out from them that the family that lived in the house owned the grocery brand “Goya.”

We had decided to spend our first night in Puerto Rico at “La Placita” at the recommendation of a friend from home who is originally from the area. Immediately after climbing out of the Uber, which conveniently still worked throughout Puerto Rico, you were swept up into the vibrant amount of culture. Music traveled through the streets and the scent of Puerto Rican food filled the air, specifically the fried plantains that Victor had recommended. There were artists stationed on every corner with their work displayed that you could purchase for no more than five dollars. I bought several post cards with pictures of local landmarks to send home to my family. We ended the night venturing into a bar where La Placita proved it was even better than we had been told.

Venturing into the forest

The next morning, everyone woke up and booked Ubers to El Yunque, a national park in Puerto Rico famous for its waterfalls and rainforest. However, the research that had been done prior to the trip had fallen short and we were soon faced with the potential to end up either stranded or paying several hundred dollars. The language barrier created even more complications and the lack of Spanish spoken by the group, paired with the speed with which the driver spoke at, was not a good match. Jose, our driver, was finally able to inform us, via a translation app, that Ubers were not allowed into the National Park, risking a fine of $1,000 fine and jail time. However, one of Jose’s fellow Uber drivers, Alicia, spoke to Jose by screaming across the highway while driving and convinced him to take us into the rainforest in exchange for $120. We were more than happy to oblige, given that we would otherwise be stuck halfway between El Yunque and our temporary home. The group motto for the day became the song “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls,” which would be started again and again by the entire group throughout the adventure.

After what seemed like ages, we were dropped off at the entrance to our hike. Immediately after entering, the humid air was filled with laughter, birds chirping and water running. We decided to pass the large waterfall that hundreds of tourists were gathered around and ventured deeper into the rainforest to find a smaller waterfall with our own private pool below. The atmosphere of the group completely shifted as we sat around the base of the waterfall, telling stories and building rock structures. We spotted exotic animals, collected rocks as mementos and took professional-quality pictures. A tumultuous morning had finally turned out greater than our expectations.

Taste of city living 

The next afternoon, after an active and adventurous day behind us, we decided to venture into the city and visit Old San Juan. This time, our Uber driver spoke almost perfect English and had completed college at Boston University before returning home to Puerto Rico to raise her daughter alongside her family. We jokingly commented on how nice it would’ve been to be able to communicate with Jose as we could with Marisa during our excursion to El Yunque. I asked her about a famous bar, ranked in the famous list, “Top 50 Bars in the World,” called La Factoría and she giggled and told me to “put my lipstick on and smile pretty because the minimum age is 23 to get into the bar.”

Later on in the car ride, she drove us past the capitol building and through Old San Juan before dropping us off in the middle of the town to wander. The colorful buildings reminded the group of Rainbow Row in Charleston, South Carolina. Surprisingly, the town was not too crowded and there was barely any car traffic, leaving it very easy to meander through the streets. Before leaving, we toured Castillo San Cristóbal, a famous fort. We saw the soldiers quarters and talked about the history of Puerto Rico. “It was amazing to see how well preserved the fort was after more than two centuries,” said Sarah Jane, who traveled in our group. “I got to learn about the way of life within the fort — they had celebrations in the courtyard, no animals were allowed and they slept in corridors of about 20 people.”

On the last day of the trip, we decided to stay in town near the house and absorb as much of the local culture as we could. We lounged on the beach, chatted with vendors who walked by with their dogs and dined at restaurants that did not require a car to get to. Pinky’s was the first stop for breakfast. Egg and bacon burritos, peanut butter and jelly smoothies and café con leche were on the menu for the group. The portion sizes were huge and prices extremely reasonable. Jenny, another member of the group, was the one who found the restaurant. “After existing on macaroni and cheese and hot dogs for the majority of the trip, I yelped ‘best breakfast near me’ and Pinky’s was the best ranked breakfast in the area,” said Jenny. “It also was less than a quarter of a mile which made it even better.” We got our fill of delicious rice, beans, lobster empanadas and fish tacos for dinner on the last day in San Juan.

Saying goodbye to San Juan

Early the next morning, the time had finally come to head back to America. Victor, our first driver, picked us up and drove us to the airport. At 5:15, the group was much less chatty, but Victor was excited to hear about the duration of the trip and all of the activities we had packed in. With tanner skin, a lot of sunburn and several priceless experiences under our belts, we happily recounted our week to him. One positive characteristic we noticed about the people of Puerto Rico, compared to other beach towns we had visited for spring break, was how friendly all of the locals were. They were constantly willing to stop and chat, offer recommendations or give directions. Although the language barrier was an obstacle, everyone agreed that the trip was absolutely worth it.

Edited by Avery Williams

By John-Paul Gemborys

In downtown Asheville, on the seedy edge of the boutique-laden Lexington Avenue, where quaint, little shops like Instant Karma and Cosmic Vision abound, you pretend like dancing at the club is still a fun time.

But let’s be real. You always end up listening to songs you hate, you try to ignore your friend making out with his girlfriend and you pretend like you’re there for reasons other than scoring a one-night stand, which, you might add, has never happened. But you keep on dancing, pretending like you’re having a good time at Tiger Mountain, a trendy bar/club hybrid that plays host to the flannel-coated college kids of Asheville on the weekend and reverts back to an almost empty bar brimming with too many neon lights on the weekdays.

Yeah, honestly, your first night in Asheville, N.C., wasn’t that great. But that didn’t matter; there was still time to find a silver lining in a unique and seemingly vibrant culture.

Asheville: the anomaly

Asheville is something of a paradox. Sure, it boasts plenty of galleries, more breweries per capita than any other place in the country and is home to a college that “graduated 700 yoga instructors last year,” Michael Terri, an Asheville Uber driver tells you. But it’s also a liberal pocket in the heart of conservative western North Carolina, a mountain town that draws tourists for its quaintness despite that tourism gentrifying its down-to-earth character — it’s touted by many locals as a very “diverse” city despite a white population of 79.3 percent being reported in 2010. Indeed, much like it’s slogan to “Keep Asheville Weird,” the city is something of an anomaly.

But it is precisely because of all the weird, paradoxical qualities that the beer in Asheville flows like water, the food is eclectic and the art isn’t half bad. So in spite of a shitty first night, you push through and try to find the pulse of this weirdly unique city.

A lukewarm toddy and an octopus appetizer

The morning after your great time at Tiger Mountain, you decide to get a little hair of the dog at Chestnut, a swanky establishment that serves brunch for around $10.

With you is your friend Joao, a tall, lanky Brazilian dude with a tattoo of a “Star Wars” stormtrooper on his leg, a love of drawing and a penchant for storytelling, which for him is a relish of hand gestures, expressive facial features and the occasional witticism. He has just moved to Asheville, so you’re staying with him, and he’s so excited the two of you will be exploring Asheville together as you spend all your money on food and drinks — for the both of you. Oh yeah, it’s good to have friends.

Having lost your voice the night before, Joao recommends ordering some hot toddies. A concoction of honey, whiskey and lemon served hot — sounds good. But actually, the toddies aren’t all that, and Joao asks the waitress to reheat his, putting on his most elegant asshole voice to say, “This hot toddy is kind of a lukewarm toddy.” After spending about 30 minutes in the bathroom due to a bloody nose that just won’t quit, you come back to the table to see that brunch has arrived — a lox bagel for you and moules frites for Joao. Joao’s garlic-and-white-wine simmered mussels over french fries are scrumptious, but your first time trying a lox bagel is underwhelming — it’s not that tasty, and your sinuses are vacuum sealed. When you pick up the $45 check, you leave feeling not too satisfied.

For dinner that night, the two of you head to Golden Fleece Slow Earth Kitchen, an upscale Mediterranean establishment situated on the lush, rolling hills of Grovewood Village, adjacent to the lavish Omni Grove Park Inn. The interior of the restaurant is warm. It’s not packed, but it isn’t empty either. Music plays, candles are lit and the smell of burnt seafood wafts through the air. The name of the game with this trip is getting drunk off your ass, so you both get Vespers: martinis composed of Gordon’s gin, Tito’s vodka, Lillet blanc and a touch of olive brine.

“I like a nice dirty gin martini that I can trade punches with, you know,” Joao quips over his cocktail.

While you wait, the chef is kind enough to bring out appetizers, on the house. The spread of caramelized onions, olives, grape tomatoes and tzatziki is set on a wooden board and holds you over until you receive the appetizer you actually paid for: wood-fired octopus.

“Let’s just go for it piece by piece,” Joao says as you look over the plate of fennel and charred octopus, “like a shark.” Despite it literally being a blackened tentacle, the octopus is fantastic, and even after the roasted half chicken with pistachio charmoula, burnt Brussels sprouts and slow-braised lamb shank, the octopus stands out as the most interesting and surprisingly delectable morsel of the night. The meal is pricey but good, so after paying the $160 check, you end up leaving the restaurant tipsy and satisfied.

In search of “the real Asheville”

The next morning you continue the lavish affair of alcoholic beverages and good eating with a trip to the Blue Ridge Artisanal Buffet for some Sunday brunch at the Omni Grove Park Inn. When you step into the foyer of the massive cobblestone lodge, you’re greeted by a doorman in a red jacket and top hat and then pointed to the buffet. The brunch is a decadent white tablecloth affair boasting crab legs, shrimp and grits, crab cakes Benedict and mountains of charcuterie. At the window you get a gorgeous panoramic view of the inn’s sprawling golf course and Asheville’s fading blue mountains in the distance.

“It’s all about the view, baby,” Joao proclaims as the hostess seats you. At $40 a head, you’re ready to dive into this Sunday champagne brunch.

“I’m actually quite nervous up here,” Joao reiterates, “I’m gonna get a mimosa.”

However, you soon discover, much to your companion’s and your own horror, that the only champagne to be had is a complimentary flute of mimosa, lest you pay for your drinks at the bar. Champagne brunch indeed.

The food is good, but the modus operandi is foiled, and after experiencing all the decadence of this self-enclosed aerie brimming with wrinkled, white faces, you wonder if this is the real Asheville.

A solitary spree

The next day Joao has to work, so you set off to explore Asheville on your own. You peruse the city, stopping to observe the flashing lights of the Asheville Pinball Museum, hear the five o’clock bell tower at the Basilica of Saint Lawrence and peep some paintings at Woolworth Walk, a store turned art gallery complete with a restored soda fountain. For lunch, White Duck Taco is an excellent choice. Putting their own funky twist on the humble taco, wild flavors like jerk chicken, banh mi tofu and lump crab constitute the menu. Order the Bangkok shrimp or pork belly taco, and you won’t be disappointed. But after eating, it’s definitely time to hit the bars.

At the Lab, otherwise known as the Lexington Avenue Brewery, you know what Asheville is about when you talk to some tourists from Tampa, Fla., who claim they’ve been coming there for six years to escape the heat. Over your pint of golden ale, simply called Bling, you listen as the husband complains about his wife being on her phone too much. After they leave, you soon open a dialogue with a man named Michael Morrison, a cook at the Lab with hair past his ears and a Patagonia snapback hat who claims to live out of his truck and who loses his train of thought constantly. Thank God, you think: a true Ashevillian.

“Dude, those people doing the rowing machine — that really, to me, that’s Asheville right now. Like they were just pushing it. They were just going it for it, man,” Michael says of the culture in Asheville. You ask him if that relates to the development going on, but he claims to know little, saying that he is a “naïve” laborer who mostly pays attention to art and music.

Walking alone in the city, you have the perfect excuse to get blitzed, so after the Lab you stop over at Sovereign Remedies, a pretentious hole-in-the-wall cocktail bar where you order a $12 cocktail called the Forks of Ivy. You almost stay, but the bartender ignores you, and with all the conversations drowning out your own thoughts, you get up and leave, searching for another bar, another buzz.

At the Thirsty Monk, you find a quieter, darker dive and settle in with a Thirsty Monk Abby Blonde. After polishing this beer off, you order the Thirsty Monk Easy Gose, tying on another one before retiring to your friend’s house for the night.

If the next bar you hit is the Skybar, you might be disappointed to find that you’re the only one there, and on a cold, drizzly afternoon, drinking a beer on a rooftop alone isn’t exactly a fun time. Yes, you do have a great view, but being alone on the top of the world is isolating to say the least. You see skyscrapers being erected in the distance, possibly one of the five new hotels you were told about. An American flag whips solemnly in the breeze on a distant building — a fluttering salute to burgeoning capitalism. You finish off your IPA and get the hell out of there.

For your last pit stop, you hit Wicked Weed Brewing’s Funkatorium and order a pint of the Rick’s Pilsner. As excited families chatter around you, you only get drunker and more disdainful. Damned if it isn’t true that you can feel most alone in a crowded room.

All in all, five days isn’t enough time to make a fair judgment of a city, but if this is your first solo trip, maybe skip Asheville. It can be cold and lonesome, and drinking doesn’t always help with that. The locals are nice, but from the bar stool you’re seated on, the culture looks as skin deep as the city’s much touted “diversity.” If you have a group of friends to travel with, it might be worth it, but on an unusually frigid spring break, you’re probably better off hitting the beach. If you’re in your mid to early 20s, you might just realize that food and beer isn’t enough for a good time anymore. Come back when it’s warmer so you can hit the trails, go kayaking or at least do some rock climbing.

Edited by Alison Krug

 

By Alexandra Blazevich

Day One

Permission to go ashore.

Permission granted.

After driving 11 hours to Pensacola, Fla. and waiting two hours in the Naval Air Station’s Welcome and Visitors Center, where the office needed to see my license, registration and conduct a background check, those two words made my heart sing.

This was real.

It was happening.

John Bradford was free.

Free for the next six hours of liberty, that was. We would go through a similar process to bring him back that night.

Day Two

After sleeping through my 4:45 and 5 a.m. alarms, my 5:15 alarm woke me up to a dark and lonely room. The drool on the side of my cheek didn’t even have time to dry before I got up and walked to the bathroom. The sandy floor of the hotel room stuck to my feet as I made my way.

I doused my face in cold water to wake myself up. It did nothing to help the fact that it was only five hours since getting back from dropping my boyfriend off at the base the night before. My eyes were bloodshot and tired from the previous day. I got dressed and made myself look as nice as I could for how early it was, and then walked down to my car in the garage below the hotel.

When I rolled up to the gate 30 minutes later, the sun was just coming up. I turned off the music I had blasting to keep me awake and took out my driver’s license. I made sure my hard-earned visitor’s pass was visible on the dashboard and dimmed my headlights.

“Goooooood morning!” the man said, signaling me to drive forward.

Men and women on base aren’t allowed to have caffeine while working, so I was not expecting such an excited greeting at 6 a.m.

“Good morning,” I said a little less enthusiastically.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asked while he verified my license.

“I’m here to pick up my boyfriend,” I said, to justify.

“Man, he better buy you a good breakfast,” he responded.

Too bad I had already bought him donuts and a chai latte –his favorites.

“That’s a little backwards, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, laughing. “It is.”

He signaled me to drive through the gate and told me to have a good day. It was the first full day I got to spend with John in months, so I knew it would be.

John and I started dating two months before he knew he’d be leaving for boot camp. We certainly didn’t make the decision on a whim – we even wrote out a pros and cons list to reference. We knew we wouldn’t be able to see each other often as a long-distance military couple. If I want to see him, I have to travel to wherever he is. He won’t be able to take leave until summer 2017, almost a year after the start of our relationship.

For every month of service, military members earn two and a half days of leave, which begins adding up in boot camp. Leave is great, but it can’t make up for the weekends, birthdays, anniversaries, and small victories they miss while they’re gone –one of the sacrifices of a military relationship.

As I drove onto base, my heart began beating out of my chest. The day I had been waiting for since January was finally here. I got to see him for a whole 16 hours that day – more than I’d seen him, in total, on my last visit for his boot camp graduation.

After parking in the visitor lot, I made my way to the barracks he had shown me the day before. I stuck out even more than I thought I would in my jean shorts, tank top and UNC hat. Everyone else around me looked the same – from their uniforms to their glasses and haircuts.

When I opened the door to the barracks, I gave a polite smile and said a “good morning” to the man on duty, who John told me was named Dafun. On base, everyone goes by their last name. It wasn’t until I asked John his roommates’ first names that he realized he didn’t know them. John told me Dafun was taking his place while he was on weekend liberty. On our way out, John saluted him and I gave the biggest smile I could to thank him for his service.

We drove to a restaurant while John ate his donuts, where he did, in fact, buy me breakfast.

After breakfast we drove to the beach, where I planned to lay out all day and catch up on sleep, but John had other plans. Within five minutes of setting out his towel, he was running toward the water for a swim in the numbingly cold water, dog tags swinging to and fro around his neck.

“I hope he’s a good swimmer,” said a woman who was there with her family.

He was the only one in the water.

“He’s actually training to be an air rescue swimmer with the Navy,” I told her proudly.

“I guess he has to get used to this somehow,” she said.

My mind flashed back to when John and I watched the movie, “The Guardian” before he left for boot camp. The main character’s job was the same as John’s: an air rescue swimmer in the U.S. Navy.

When he came out of the water twenty minutes later, the woman thanked him for his service–something he said he hears whenever he’s around civilians.

Later that day at a beach bar, a man noticed my hat.

“You’ve got the wrong blue,” he said.

My boyfriend, another Duke fan, got a kick out of that.

It was like being home again before John had left for boot camp. Just like a regular afternoon out with him in Durham or Chapel Hill. I didn’t want it to end.

Day Three

On the last night, I drove John back to base for the third and final time of the trip. We sat in the car in silence. I drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand in his. It was 11:30 p.m., and he had to wake up at 4 a.m. At one point I looked over and realized he was asleep.

Right before midnight, I dropped him off at the barracks. We hugged and he said a simple, “See ya.” Then he walked up the stairs to his room where I wasn’t allowed to follow.

When I would see him again? In a month? Just a few weeks? I had no idea.

As I walked back to my car, it felt like part of me was suddenly missing. My phone buzzed, and I opened the message from John after passing through the gates I got to know so well over the weekend.

“I love you,” the text read.

He apologized for not being able to kiss me one more time. No public displays of affection are allowed on base.

It wasn’t until then that I started crying.

 

Edited by Paige Connelly

By Kenzie Cook

Alligators crossing the streets in every direction. Horrible drivers filling the interstate. Hordes of old people crowding the beaches. These are all stereotypes – and possible truths – my friends and coworkers have offered up about Florida; however, the only way to experience the true grandeur of Florida is to take the long drive down to it. Florida is a large area of land; it takes eight-and-a-half hours to drive from the northernmost city to the southernmost city. Most travelers from other states would probably opt for a flight from their state to Florida, but the drive is a much more scenic option. Traveling from the middle of North Carolina to the middle of Florida, you would see the beauty of four different states in one trip. While this would add to your travel time, if you stop in the right states for gas, it would be a much cheaper option.

This spring break, my friend Anna Ranson and I made the 8-hour drive from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, to St. Augustine, Florida, as well as side trips to Jacksonville, Merritt Island and Blue Spring State Park. Though the stereotype about horrible drivers proved to be true, we could not find proof of the other stereotypes while we were there; but we did manage to see the natural beauty and history of Florida on our four-day excursion.

Before making the trip to a different state such as Florida, travelers should make lodging and daily activity plans or they might find themselves with nowhere to sleep and nothing to do. Many hotels in Florida fill up months in advance, and certain activities are only available during certain months or times of the day.

Lodging

Weeks before spring break hit, Anna and I visited all of the travel websites we could find for lodging recommendations near our main destination, St. Augustine. Anna managed to find an affordable hotel with decent ratings that was located right on St. Johns River in Palatka, less than an hour’s drive from St. Augustine. Unfortunately, we soon found the phrase, “You can’t believe that everything you see on the internet is true,” to be entirely accurate. Our experience at this particular hotel ended quickly when we heard the neighbors screaming, arguing and possibly beating each other up. Thankfully, a much nicer hotel in the same chain – this time located in Elkton – allowed us to switch our reservation to their location at a discounted rate. The receptionist, Marianne Horner, was incredibly helpful and even gave us insight into more activities to do in St. Augustine. If travelers are in need of a simple and clean hotel near St. Augustine that will not hurt their budget, I recommend the Quality Inn in Elkton.

Food

On our initial trip down to Florida, our first stop for food was in Jacksonville at a restaurant called The Southern Grill. Accurately named, The Southern Grill serves food you would expect to eat at any southern barbecue in large portions. I ordered the Buffalo wings and received far too many for one person to eat, but they were delectable. They were worth the $11 I paid for them. Anna ordered the bacon cheeseburger and received a burger the size of the dinner plate they served it on. In her opinion, it definitely measured up to the $12 she paid for it. Neither of us managed to finish either of our meals, but we left the restaurant full of great food.

Later that night in Palatka, our experience at the hotel had rattled us and we were in search of something familiar, so we stopped at Zaxby’s. We ordered a chicken Caesar salad to share and a birthday cake milkshake for each of us. While I thought the salad was amazing, Anna could not stop raving about the milkshake. The entire meal cost around $15 and was worth the price. In addition, the young woman working at the register was very kind to us and delivered the food to our table promptly.

Our first full day in Florida was full of driving and museum and historical site visits; so we forgot to eat lunch but made up for it by stopping at Denny’s in Port Orange. We both ordered a “Build Your Own Grand Slam” meal with various breakfast items – Anna’s with coffee and mine with apple juice. Florida was the fourth state I had been to a Denny’s in and this experience was far greater than any prior visit was. Each meal cost around $10 and filled us up enough to make it back to our new hotel in Elkton to settle in for the night.

The next day after another full day of exploring, we did not eat until dinnertime. As our final meal in Florida before we headed home the next morning, we decided to eat in one of the small restaurants located in the historical section of St. Augustine. The restaurant we went to was a tiny Italian place called Nonna’s Trattoria, located on one of the smaller streets of the city only accessible by walking. Though the outside of the building looked very simple and blended in with the rest of Historic St. Augustine’s streets, the inside was elegant and inviting. Anna ordered chicken Alfredo and paid around $14 and said the taste and amount was well worth the cost. I ordered lasagna and paid $16 and agreed wholeheartedly.

Overall, our entire experience with food in Florida was well worth the price and travel. Florida also has many other options for restaurants that are exclusively in Florida; but as a picky eater, I could not bring myself to eat at most of them. If any travelers are making the trip down to Florida, I urge them to try anything new that their taste buds can handle.

Activities

The first large city we reached in Florida was Jacksonville. We visited the Museum of Science and History, or the MOSH. Our roommate at UNC, Danielle Bruce, is originally from Florida, and recommended the museum to us because it’s often overlooked. The entry fee for students is $10, and that day it included a free show in the planetarium. The planetarium show itself was worth the $10 I paid. We got a glimpse of what the night sky would look like without pollution and learned about the different star and constellation names. The rest of the museum had exhibits ranging from the history of the film industry in the United States to different sea creatures and their noises. We spent time in the interactive area, testing our brain skills and knowledge of different types of energy. Overall, it was an interesting experience and was worth more than what we paid. I highly recommend it to any Florida visitors.

We spent our second day in museums as well. The first place we visited was the Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, which was the main reason for our long trip. Christopher Cook, a Florida native, recommended a visit. Again, the entry fee was $10 a person; but if a tourist does not wish to pay, the fort is exciting from the outside as well. We visited on a rainy day, so not many people were around, but normally the fort is full of tourists. The Castillo de San Marcos is a fort that the Spanish built during conquests in the New World while Florida was part of the Spanish Empire. Its sole purpose was to defend the Spanish from attacks from the English and other Europeans trying to take Florida. The fort still has cannons on top, and visitors may view them up close. Visitors can also go inside the rooms of the fort, including sleeping quarters, the chapel and a room dedicated to art.

Next on our trip was a visit to the Kennedy Space Center on Merritt Island. It was roughly an hour drive from St. Augustine. Parking was $10, and the entry fee was $50, but the money spent was well worth it. The Kennedy Space Center is an active NASA field center, but it also has many exhibits for tourists to learn about space travel up close without actually going into space. Visitors have the chance to meet real astronauts, see the Apollo 8 rocket and Space Shuttle Atlantis and even participate in simulations of space flight. All of this and more is included in the entry fee. Though this was the most money I had spent in any of the places we had visited in Florida so far, I was impressed, and I would love to go back. Anna said this was her favorite part of the entire trip, even though it was the most expensive.

The next day, we were mostly in Blue Spring State Park, a wildlife reserve near Orlando. The park brings visitors in with their large amounts of wildlife, namely the manatees. They offer boat rides that take you around the park to see various species of birds, reptiles and the manatees. We each paid $24 to try it. Unfortunately, it was too cold for the manatees to be out, but we did manage to see several birds, turtles and alligators. Although I did enjoy the boat ride regardless, I would suggest that visitors come on warmer days so they could get the chance to see the manatees.

For the rest of the day, we returned to Historic St. Augustine and walked around exploring the city. The buildings still matched the original Spanish architecture, and the majority of the city required that we travel by foot. We walked across the Bridge of Lions and took selfies with the large stone lions guarding it and then walked around to see all of the little shops and restaurants. The only money we had left to spend was for dinner, so it was a cheap excursion.

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If a visitor wants to travel to Florida, they should be prepared to spend a decent amount of money. From my experience and the experiences of others I have talked to, the money spent will be worth it. Most people visit Florida for the beaches or amusement parks, but several Florida natives and residents recommend the museums and wildlife reserves for a taste of Floridian history and culture.

Edited by Samantha Miner

By Blake Richardson

Maja Olsson finds her cubby in the storage shed and puts on the red and black garden gloves she uses every day at work.

The junior English major walks outside with the rest of the crew, finds a spot at a table and gets to work with the blue Appalachian Mountains stenciled into the horizon behind her.

She is salvaging and sorting everything she can from the trash to recycle. She separates plastic, aluminum, paper, trash and glass items. She sorts stretchy plastic like bubble wrap; teracycle, which includes cellophane from cigarette boxes and energy bar wrappers; reusable items and compost. There’s even a pile for the pizza boxes that are too greasy to get recycled with the rest of the cardboard.

When she’s not sorting, she’s monitoring the compost, which is stored in giant blue containers under the roof of a shed. She climbs a muddy stepladder to take the temperature — it’s well over 100 degrees.

It’s decomposing, but she sometimes wonders if the compost is alive.

Olsson is paid minimum wage for her role in helping her college campus function. Her recycling crew is one of over 100 work crews that perform campus tasks at Warren Wilson College outside of Asheville.

Warren Wilson is one of seven work colleges in the U.S. The colleges have students participate in academics, service and work in order to teach the value of hard work and service while reducing college debt. At three of the colleges, qualified students can attend for free.

Warren Wilson is not one of those three. The 10 to 20 hours of work each week pays $7.25 an hour — hardly enough to foot the $33,970 tuition bill.

According to a 2016 report by CollegeBoard, national tuition rates are rising faster than financial aid and families’ college budgets are. For some work colleges, this change has heightened their school’s importance. But at Warren Wilson, rising tuition threatens the very nature of the school.

Setting the schools apart

As Olsson is leaving the preschool, a woman stops her. She wants to thank the recycling crew for their work, so she offers them a gift.

Olsson walks away with a white plastic container of homemade pimento cheese. It’s just one of several times she’s returned to her suite with food after work. But she has brought home more than just food. She has a collection of shirts and even a coat from the free store, where the recycling crew assembles goods like clothes, books and shoes that were thrown away.

Niels Wilson, a junior whose current work entails cleaning the science buildings on campus and serving as a teaching assistant, has similar stories. A few days ago, he got a free bike after reorganizing the room that the bike was stored in.

“I like how it’s been just really interesting jobs that I’ve had so far,” Wilson said.

Crews clean the dorms, do repairs, work in the dining halls, grow plants in the campus greenhouse and care for farm animals. There’s even a crew that studies herbs and can brew tea to cure your worst headache.

“We like to say that our colleges wouldn’t operate if our students didn’t show up,” said Robin Taffler, executive director of the Work Colleges Consortium.

Wilson met some of his best friends —including Olsson — through the work program.

Olsson likes that she runs into friends wherever she goes. When her mom visits her at school, friends run the guesthouse she stays in. Friends work in the library, make food in the dining hall and do repairs in the dorms.

The sense of community that Olsson, Wilson and Taffler all praised as a benefit of work colleges translates into a personal responsibility that guides students’ actions every day.

“You’re not going to trash things,” Olsson said. “Because you know it’s students, you know who’s going to have to clean it up for you.”

Valorie Coleman is the public relations director for College of the Ozarks, another work college. She said the students — including the eight who work in her office — set the school apart.

“Our students are the most hard-working, amazing students,” Coleman said. “They’re disciplined, they’re learning. … They’re graduating with work skills.”

Taffler said even after graduation, students maintain this attitude. She has noticed more students at work colleges graduate with a desire to serve the public good. And according to the Work College Consortium, students who graduate from work colleges are more likely to engage in community service post-graduation.

The sense of responsibility persists beyond the campus border.

Obstacles for the ‘outlier’ 

While this sense of community at work colleges is an added benefit, it is not the primary goal.

“A lot of the schools came into being to help underserved populations have a way to go to college,” Taffler said.

Three of those schools have stayed true to that goal — Alice Lloyd College, Berea College and College of the Ozarks. Because of the work program and other funds, every student at those colleges attends for free.

Taffler said most students at these colleges are the first in their family to receive a college education. The students come from low-income families and otherwise wouldn’t have been able to attend college — especially not today. According to a Goldman Sachs report, college tuition prices are so high that degrees from schools ranking in the bottom 25 percent are not worth the money.

Rising tuition poses a new obstacle in Warren Wilson’s ability to stay true to the mission. Now, students are better off not participating in the work program at all if they want to save money.

Wilson and Olsson agreed that this significantly discourages students from continuing in the work program.

“It is cheaper to not be in the work program and live off campus,” Olsson said. “In some ways it’s frustrating because you’re paying to do this.”

The federal regulations determining what qualifies as a work college were made law in 1992. Before then, work colleges had mild contact with each other, Taffler said. But now, the schools’ relationships have grown; they do research together and even hold annual conference with some students from each college in the fall.

The collaboration emphasizes Warren Wilson’s differences.

For Warren Wilson, the work program has evolved to focusing on owning up to privilege. Olsson said participating in the work program is about appreciating the blessing of an education and putting in the work to earn it. But at other work colleges, the work program is the foundation of the school’s existence.

This is why Taffler calls Warren Wilson an “outlier” from the other work colleges.

“Students go to Berea College because they want an education,” Taffler said. “And the only way they’re going to get it is if they work.”

Sticking to the mission

College of the Ozarks never strayed from the mission.

“I’ve really never been at an institution that understood mission and vision as well as C of O,” said Valorie Coleman, the college’s public relations director. “That drives everything we do.”

Coleman has no doubt that the college will continue to uphold its tradition of affordable education. The school covers costs through the work program, scholarships, donations and a $460 million endowment.

“That has been ingrained in how we organized the institution and run the institution for its entire history,” she said.

Berea, which was founded in 1855 as the first interracial college in the South, has also been able to uphold its goals despite rising tuition.

The college funds its students’ tuition through the work program, scholarships such as Pell Grants, the school’s endowment and an additional $4.5 million in donations each year, said Tim Jordan, media and news manager for Berea.

Berea has always been selective, and rising tuition has only made the applicant pool grow, Taffler said.

Coleman echoed that change. She said College of the Ozarks has grown from 1,452 last year to 1,512 this year with additional housing.

“If there were no limit to the number of students we could accommodate, we’d probably have 20,000,” Coleman said.

Coleman said she regularly receives calls from other schools seeking advice on how to implement aspects of the work program into their college, and several schools are in the process of becoming federally recognized work colleges.

Warren Wilson has already changed substantially. And in many ways, the changes have been positive. The college started as the Asheville Farm School to educate boys in the Appalachian Mountains. Since then, Warren Wilson has become a four-year college with a master’s program in creative writing. Eighty percent of the students are not from North Carolina, and 62 percent are women.

But as the school moves forward into the future, a gray area looms: How will the college stay true to the goal of affordability that was integral to its founding?

An uncertain future

“It’s amazing how something so simple can taste so good,” Olsson says as she eats bread and cheese at her favorite spot by the river on Warren Wilson’s campus.

It’s hard to be unhappy at a place with giant grassy hills perfect for winter sledding, forests with salamanders you can study in science class and baby cows and pigs that enter the world in campus stables each year.

The uniqueness of Warren Wilson is evident when you first step on campus. The emphasis on sustainability, sense of community and heightened work ethic in the student body sets the school apart from other colleges.

But is that enough?

Coleman is confident in College of the Ozarks’ future because the school’s president is dedicated to maintaining the school’s traditions. He recently assigned each of the vice presidents to focus on upholding one of the school’s five goals: academic, vocational, Christian, cultural and patriotic.

“He made sure that that legacy was safeguarded,” she said.

Warren Wilson’s future is more uncertain. It entails reaching a balance between making adjustments necessary to the school’s survival and staying true to the tradition that brought them here.

Change the mission? Or change the school?

Edited by Ryan Wilusz 

By Alexandra Blazevich

Three hundred people. One room. I was out of breath, but I just kept smiling. Five hours later, the group was narrowed down to seven. I’d made it to the end. A casting director asked for my contact information.

Six months later, I still hadn’t received a phone call. My dream of getting a job in Walt Disney World was crushed, once again. I told myself I would try again the next chance I got. It was the same never-ending cycle of excitement and disappointment with every Disney audition I went to – seven, to be exact.

One girl sat in the corner crying after she was cut. Black tears running down her face onto her bright red lips as she changed into her street shoes and packed her bag to leave. She drove four hours to an audition in which she didn’t last more than five minutes. At that audition, I learned not to wear makeup – the casting directors don’t like it.

A few other girls were asked to leave because they were just above or below the height requirement for the part the casting director was looking for. “Please check the audition requirements next time,” she said as they walked out.

Cassidy Tompkins, a former Disney princess, auditioned for Disney 12 times before she was hired.

Abby Peters auditioned eight times and was never hired.

Alyssa Stroner auditioned just one time before getting her part.

“I was part of the very lucky, extremely humbled few,” Stroner said.

Peter O’Neal auditioned for Disney entertainment for a period of six years – after his interactions with cast members during a trip to Disney World inspired him to do so.

“I would do whatever it took to perform at Disney, so I could spread the magic that had been given to me,” he said.

The Audition Process

Being a Disney princess is not all about tiaras and corsets – at least not as first. During the audition process, a casting director could cut you based on how far apart your eyes are, or how big your nose is. If you’re an inch too short or tall of the range set for each princess, you’re out. But, if the casting directors like you, they can measure you down or up to your “Disney height,” as they call it. I’m 5’8,” but my Disney height was 5’7” because they thought I looked the part.

Disney’s casting directors are looking to fit a specific look for each princess and each character. The audition listings on the website say exactly what they’re looking for. For example, the listing to be Anna from Frozen says,“5’3″ – 5’7″, type cast. Elsa’s younger sister, and Princess of Arendelle; quirky and a bit awkward at times, fun spirited with great comedic timing and outgoing personality. Non-singing role.”

The audition requirements don’t stop there. Before you have a chance to show your personality through acting and dance steps, the casting directors line everyone up and cut the majority of the group solely based on looks.

“The casting crew stares at every individual for a few seconds to identify if their physique and basic facial structure matches the criteria. It is a very awkward process, but it is painless,” Peters said. “Despite the casting crew’s many attempts to convince you to ‘just enjoy yourself’ and to not worry about your audience, the whole processes is very intimidating.”

At least they play fun Disney music in the background.

Tompkins first auditioned for Disney entertainment in 2010 for “Beauty and the Beast,” a Broadway-type of show where she’d need to be able to sing, dance and act.

“The casting director told me I would never be a Belle because I didn’t have the right look, which was hilarious to me when I did get cast as Belle in 2015 by that same casting director,” she said.

Once the casting crew has looked everyone over and made cuts, the remaining dancers are taught a dance routine. For Walt Disney World princess auditions, this is usually a simple grapevine or three-step-turn dance with a curtsy or two. When I auditioned for Hong Kong Disneyland, we learned a more complicated number.

“You’re a Cindy”

At the end of the audition, directors choose a few women to have the “Disney Princess experience,” as I like to call it. “Very few females make it to the final round, when they are weighed, measured, and dolled up to look like a selected princess,” Peters said.

At the end of my first audition, the casting director lined up our group of 10 girls. She pointed at me and said, “You’re a Cindy.” Speechless, I stepped out of line and followed her. She led me to a room where a stylist was waiting, and within a few minutes, I had on a blonde wig, blue eye shadow, and light pink gloss on my lips. I looked like Cinderella. It was surreal.

Then, the casting director took my photo and said I could potentially get a phone call from Disney within six months. From there, it was a waiting game.

When asked about their perspective and comments on the audition process, Disney did not respond to my inquiries.

The Training Process

Once hired, Tompkins said she went through a training process where she learned how to do meet-and-greets with guests as both a princess and a “fur character.” The meet-and-greet structure was very specific: greet the guest, have a conversation and send them off – all within about 70 seconds. All princesses – known as “face characters” – must also be trained in fur costumes, where their faces are not seen. For Tompkins, that meant she had to train as Pluto, Eeyore and Elastigirl from The Incredibles.

Face characters must verbally respond to whatever guests may say, and because so they earn an extra $2.50 per hour. This can be rough. Tompkins said that one time when she was playing Ariel, a young child told her, “Ariel can you take my brother away because I think he just wiped a booger on your dress.”

Fur characters cannot talk, but still must still have a non-verbal conversation with the guest. One of Tompkins’ fur character roles was as Pluto.

“If someone had a birthday pin on I’d try to tap dance what sounded like happy birthday and move my hands like a conductor to get everyone to sing after pointing to the button,” Tompkins said.

Stroner said her training lasted four days. She learned to walk, talk and act like Princess Jasmine from Walt Disney’s Aladdin.

O’Neal said the meet-and-greet experience was a thrill for him as a fur character. He couldn’t talk, but his actions made up for it.

“There’s no way you can’t smile when a fun friend gives you a big hug,” he said.

Disney also requires all face and fur characters to go by their character name. Even if other cast members or friends know who the person is under the costume, guests do not.

“In Disney lingo, it is common for people to ask entertainment cast members what characters they perform, and instead of putting it that way – possibly ruining the magic for overhearing guests – we refer to the characters we perform as ‘our friends,’” Stroner said. “For example, someone might ask, ‘Who are you friends with?’”

When I visited Disney World in August, Stroner was holding meet-and-greets as Jasmine in Epcot. While I know her as my friend, Alyssa, I had to call her Jasmine in order to not ruin the magic for the other guests around me – especially younger ones. When posting photos of us on social media, I couldn’t mention her real name – I had to call her my friend, Jasmine.

In order to keep the magic alive for all guests, Disney has put  in place rules to keep things consistent. If two Mickey Mouses were to cross paths, children would start to question which one is the “real” Mickey. The magic would be lost. In a similar way, each princess must have a similar look, just like how every Radio City Rockette must be the same height. Because of Disney’s standards, only a select few of all the women and men who audition make it as a cast member.

On my way home from my audition, I called my parents out of sheer excitement. I had to tell someone. Even while stuck in the miserable downtown Orlando traffic, I sang Disney tunes at the top of my lungs. I rolled my windows down and serenaded the cars beside me. I didn’t care – I felt like I was on top of the world. I don’t know if I was missing the right look or if they lost my resume, but I never got my callback.

The audition process gave me an inside look, not only to how Disney entertainment works, but also the entertainment industry as a whole, which I wouldn’t have gotten to experience otherwise.

It has been three years since that day, and my mom still calls me Cindy.

Edited by Paige Connelly