As a history student I see it as my task to search out and feel the past that I have been privileged enough to observe. In my wanderings of the familiar North America, I have discovered that the North American people are obsessive about their relatively young history. They protect it with high fences and stronggly discourage any kind of student to reach out and interact with that past. The oldest continuously occupied town in the United States of St. Augustine, Florida is such a place with its little cobblestone streets and a large Spanish Fortress that contains relics of it’s history. Now, if you’ve never been there you might not understand the comparison I am about to make. St Augustine is like Europe, at least the part I have seen from Barcelona to Rome, with a few exceptions. There are plentiful palm trees and places that a history buff can soak up and bask in, cobblestone streets and tiny shops that have been there for hundreds of years. But in Europe, history is relative, and these sites and important places are not fenced off and there is no date from which any particular country can place a finite beginning. One can reach out with a warm, sun burnt hand and feel the heartbeat of the past beneath their fingertips. I’ve walked amid Roman ruins and written poems in the lands of kings. I’ve seen the burial place of Raphael and breathed the same air, walked some of the same places, as Caesar. I’ve been able to change that heartbeat of history into an experience of my own, and continued the search for the handprint of God outside the textbook.