A Call For Change

When people travel to foreign lands,they go forth with the hope that they will change the places they visit. Those from different traditions have varied ways of manifesting this, but the intent is usually the same. Russians often refuse to overtly step out of their own cultural mindset. French interact mostly with other french speakers. Americans broadcast their own values to those around them. On a grand scale this may change the local's view of other peoples; without necessarily making it more accurate. Business continues as usual.
One man cannot change the world.When professionals are sent abroad to teach those in other parts of the world, the impact they make often pails in comparison to the cultural impression their foreign co-workers make on them. While I went to Maldives to train it's journalists,the lessons learned and friendships formed will remain a part of me for the rest of my life. For better or worse, one returns from this education forever changed.
It is almost time for me to return again. All that I had to do on my most recent sojourn through the former eastern block has been accomplished. I have received a B2 level Polish certificate, connected with extended European family, and been accepted to grad school.Despite this,I find my self focusing on every day activities of life in Budapest,which soon will no longer be a part of my own. More than anything else they have defined me. They will also continue unimpeded after my departure.
When my plane lands in Los Angeles,the city I grew up in will be exactly the same.But I will be different.As I begin re-adjusting to an old life through wizened eyes I know the process will offer little comfort. I can only yearn to for the next experience -- the newest change to my own world.

A Nation Left Behind

In America, it is common to see stories on the nightly news about how the education system in the United States has fallen behind. Over the past few months, I have been given an eye-opening lesson on how true this is in one subject area; one that is never even mentioned in these broadcasts: foreign languages.

At home, I am considered to have a talent for languages other my native tongue. Compared to many Americans, the fact that I can converse and study in three of them is unusual. However, at my university in Budapest, it is common to find that many of my European pears have similar ability. In many cases, their English is practically perfect. The reason for this seems clear. In many European countries, foreign languages are mandatory starting from elementary school. By the time students graduate from university they have been given the time and opportunity to learn multiple languages quite well. I was taught the value of knowing multiple tongues from a early age, but could not any foreign language at school until 8th grade.
Many U.S. schools only require 2 years of a foreign language for high school graduation. Usually, the only language available is Spanish, which remains ubiquitous although some would prefer other linguistic options. Many students regard it as annoying and learn it only enough to pass the final exam.

Distressingly, the current U.S. language instruction program bears striking resemblance to the defunct attempts of the USSR to teach Russian in other nations behind the Iron Curtain in the 70's and 80's. Students from Poland to Romania were forced to learn the eastern Slavic language. Most of them simply passed the exam and forgot what they had learned by the start of the following school year.

One of my Polish professors in Kraków spent a few years teaching Polish in Washington D.C. One day she urged Americans to avoid the Muscovite's mistake. "It seems to me that Spanish in the U.S. is like Russian used to be here" she said in Polish. "Everyone has to learn the minimum amount and few can speak any of it." It was one of the most candid and insightful comments I had heard in a long time.

When abroad, I often feel that my own country's education system has forced me to work from a disadvantage. I have only been able to study Polish for five years, but I am competing with some who have learned languages since they were five. While I can always communicate, I must perfect my skills on the fly.

My Polish 'niece' and 'nephew' are about 8 years old. They already are learning English at their local elementary school. Although we speak Polish, they often teach me a thing or two about the language, and are eager for me to help them learn English words. On the other hand, my 11 year old American cousin is not learning any foreign language and regards them as 'stupid'. It is often said that a nation's youth are its future. If this is true, then I leave you with a question: with whom will that future lie in a globalized economy? The answer seems all to clear.

A Standing Ovation

My passion for the grand opera began in the world's smallest opera house. It is located on a side street in Warsaw and there are more people in the cast than there are in the audience. As a young man of fifteen years, I was captivated by Mozart's 'Escape from the Seraglio'. After my return from Poland I began to further discover the art form. Most of this exploration took place at the LA Opera.

After every performance, the Angeleno opera-goers would begin to applaud. Eventually almost all of them would stand up in accolade to the performers. I always assumed that this was simply polite behavior, despite overhearing the occasional grumble that standing ovations "come like pennies in L.A. these days."

I did not realize how true that statement was until I started regularly attending performances at the national opera house in Budapest. Unlike Californians, the Magyars demonstrate their appreciation for the lead performers after each act. The amount of applause is directly connected to a spectator's opinion of the artist's performance. Standing up after the finale is strictly reserved for exceptional productions.

More importantly, Hungarian opera fans take the time to make their approval known. At the Dorthy Chandler theater, flawless arias by Placido Domingo are met with little more then a bit of polite applause. This could not be further from the truth at the Budapest opera. I will never forget the audience's reaction after one of the main leads opened the second act of Bank Ban with a stunning solo. The show stopped for a full 10 minutes. Applause came in synchronized waves as the packed theater meaningfully demonstrated its approval.

It is also permissible to express one dislike. When the tenor's voice cracked during 'La Donna e Mobile' most of the audience loudly booed him. It was the first time I had ever seen this done.

When my time in Budapest is over I will have seen more than 8 performances at the Magyar National Opera. It is one of the things I will miss most. Los Angeles may showcase some of the world's best artists, but in Budapest the singer's performance actually counts for something.

Last night, I saw Puccini's 'Turandot'. It was one of the most amazing operas I have ever seen. For the first time, I noticed that a few members of the audience had gotten to their feet in true recognition. Still seated, I clapped thunderously until the final curtain.

Family Ties in Poland

About 4 months ago I was in Kraków, Poland and my e-mail stopped working. When I finally was able to log on I found a message from my Polish cousin saying that she had some business to take care of in another part of the country. She asked if I could come the week after I had planned to do so. I had reserved a trip to the Western Balkans for that week, so I was not able to. Everything still worked out. We picked a week in mid-November for my visit, and I kept my self busy visiting a friend in Slovakia during the week we had originally discussed.

A few months went buy. As the time of my visit neared I realized that this would be the first time that I would be going to the region where my ancestors actually came from. I also knew that this would be the first time I would be visiting Poland in the winter. My mother had worked as a correspondent in the country during marshal law. She always repeated a saying that winter life there was "gray, sad and hard," so I was curious but also felt some trepidation.

My plane departed Budapest's Franz Liszt Airport for Warsaw's Chopin air terminal. Then a bus 6 hours northeast to to the town of Suwałki near the Lithuanian border. My cousin(I call her this for simplicity's sake) Marzanna, her husband and brother met me at the station and drove me along dark road to the family's deary farm in Kowale Olekice.

I met Marzanna and her husband the year before in Lubliń, but this was my first time meeting her entire family. I was immediately welcomed by all of them. It was late so I quickly went to sleep.

The following morning we returned to Suwałki to search for my ancestors in the local archives. Marzanna's mother explained to me that this is no easy task. When my great-grandfather left for America, Poland was still partitioned between Austria,Germany and Russia. The former

border ran through the area and my ancestors apparently lived on both sides of it. While they have found many of my his brothers and sisters, my great grandfather has yet to turn up in the records. Next we traveled to Sidory Zapolne, where my elusive ancestor had been born. It was amazing to stand on the exact spot where an important part of my American family's history had begun. During my time in Suwalszczyzna I also visited the monastery at Wigry, where the Pope used to enjoy visiting.

Over the next few days I got to meet many of my Polish family's other members. There were so many that it would be impossible to mention them all in this post, so here are some of the highlights. Each meeting was accompanied by what I only define as a feast. "Andrew, Jedz!"(Eat, Andrew!) became a pleasant refrain for much of the trip. Almost all of the food and drink was homemade. During my five days in the area I began to gain an appreciation for the wisdom of a product being 'swojej roboty', or from your own work.

I Especially enjoyed discussing the differences of the U.S. and Polish educational systems with Marzanna's sister's daughter, and gaining a new perspective on history of the region from My

cousin's Lithuanian grandfather -- over homemade vodka.

During five day visit with my family in Mazury, I felt truly welcomed. When it was time to go, I was given a bag full of homemade sandwiches, and told that they wanted me to return. While the sky was a bit gray, life is no longer hard and anything but sad. I was truly impressed by the beauty of the land my forebarers came from. All that is left to say is thanks again to all who made my time there so amazing. As we discussed, Next summer, I shall return.

The Road I'm On

It was already dark when my bus from Kowale Oleckie arrived in Warsaw. I checked into my hotel near the airport and was honored when the receptionist complemented my Polish. A bit later I set about looking for the local grocery store. There was nothing in the area, so I decided that if I was going to walk around in the cold, it would be better to do so in the old town square.

The bus back into town took about 45 minutes. We passed by the Palace of Culture and Science, and then continued up the Nowy Świat. I had planed to alight at the beginning of the old town. However the bus made a left turn and ended up in Victory Square, where I decided to get off. Ironically, this was the place where my feet had first touched Polish soil six years ago.

My gaze immediately turned to the large hotel complex at the far end of the square. In communist times this was the government travel agency's sanctioned hotel. My mother stayed here as a journalist during marshal law. It was about this hotel that I heard some of my first stories of Poland. In the present day, it is no longer owned by Orbis but instead is a Softel.

I realized that I needed to find my way back to the old town. My parents had always called the nearest main street to the square the K.P. because they could not pronounce it. There was a main bulovard near to the square and I walked along it, wondering where I was. After a while I came to a sign post with the name Krakowskie Przedmieście imprinted on it. Slowly, It dawned on me that this street was the K.P. I had walked on long ago.

As I continued up this street, it was as if I was taking a journey back in time. In the Plac Zamkowy I remembered a boy on one of his first trips to Europe, curious about a heritage he had never known first hand. When I finally reached the old town square I was reminded why I had spent years learning Polish and became dedicated to pursuing a career in eastern Europe.

Beyond the old city walls the new town awaited me. I crossed onto its cobbled streets reflecting on the past few years. Since my first trip to Warsaw I have seen many more impressive sights, from the old town square of Brussels, to the canyon perched shanties near Machu Picchu. The teeming metropolis of Male is an environment I will always treasure. But Warsaw will always hold a special place in my heart.

Most people I have known are unimpressed by Warsaw. I simply cannot agree with them. This small post-war reconstruction of an historic center symbolizes more then any other place my hopes and dreams for the future. Having just returned from Warsaw's stare miasto, I cannot help but feel that it always will.

I headed back to my hotel with renewed determination. While I may have a few years to go before I can start my career in eastern Europe, this short walk reminded me of why I was doing it, and of how far I had come. I returned down what I had come to know as the Krakowskie Przedmieście. Not only did I know where it led, but more importantly, I could pronounce it!

Success in Slovenia

I am in my final year of undergraduate studies at my university in America. However, this was the first time that in which I have taken a quick business trip anywhere. I can safely say that it went well.

On my first morning in Slovenia, I got up early and headed out of the city center for my admissions interview at the University of Ljubljana's Faculty of Economics with the director of the Master's program in international business, Prof. Prasnikar. I arrived early and was greeted by Maja Knehtl, another of the program's administrators. She was very helpful in explaining some of the specifics of the program and student life.

When it came time for the actual interview, the professor greeted me, and then proceed to explain that, in his experience, Americans do not take studies in Europe seriously. I responded by telling him that many Americans hold a problematic of view studying in Europe as a once in a life time opportunity to travel. I assured him that it not an attitude which I share and he seemed to relax. We passed the rest of the time discussing Slovenia's rating of competitiveness in the E.U. At the end, I was informed that I was accepted to the program based on the interview and my GPA, and that I would be formally enrolled next September.

That afternoon I met with Maja Jeranko, a family friend in the center of Ljubljana. She was very well traveled in both Europe and the U.S. I found refreshing to discuss future career opportunities with some one who has experiential knowledge of life and economy on both continents.

On the second day, I had a productive meeting with, to clarify my case of claiming Slovene citizenship through ancestry. This was the first time that I have had to make a hiring decision, or engage price negotiations. So, while I was a bit nervous I am glad I got the experience. I now understand how employment interviews can also be stressful for the interviewer.

That evening I went with Maja and some current students from the master's program to Slovenia's national art gallery, which was small but nice. This was followed by a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

While was lucky to see the major sights of Slovenia on a previous trip, I can see how business travelers sometimes do not get to see much of the countries to which they travel.I returned to Budapest feeling rather tired. A lot had happened in the space of only two days and I slept for the rest of the weekend.

Travel, Perspective, and a Train

Just a few decades ago Europe was divided. These divisions ran not only between East and West, but also between individual countries. People often had more distorted perceptions of other nationalities who only lived a few kilometers away.

During my journey to Ljubljana in the second class compartment of the Citadella express, I sat with Hungarian families Nigerian immigrants, and pair of Slovene collage students, who had never taken the train to their capital. The fields of Hungary gave way to dusk as we entered Slovenia. To my surprise the the train stopped. The Slovenian police boarded and began checking passports and ID cards. Both Hungary and Slovenia are members of the Schengen area, so I almost had left my passport in Budapest. As I handed over my documents for inspection it occurred to me how much greater freedom to travel is reshaping European attitudes and economics.

Before the fall of the iron curtain, passage between western Europe and the former eastern bloc was not an easy matter. Even in the satalite states of the USSR passage between countries was heavily restricted. Many residents of the DDR could only obtain authorization to go to Bulgaria on holiday, and few Poles could gain clearance for travel to what they referred to as the 'demoludy' or other Warsaw Pact countries.

Today, maintaining open borders is a nessesity for economic success. Even countries which do not participate in the Schengen area make crossing the border a simple task. Only Belarus and Russia still have serious visa requirements for entry by EU or American citizens.

This opening up of national borders has had the effect of allowing the free of exchange of knowledge and goods across national borders. It has also provided for the free exchange of human capital. Migration between Europe and other parts of the world has also become much more frequent. Despite this, many have elected to stay in their own countries, on the basis of national identity. Crossing a border in Schengen may have become easier, but Europe fortunately continues to be a union of individual, and independent countries.

As I sat on the train, I realized that I also had this ease of movement to thank for the broader perspective which I have gained through my own travels. Relaxation of travel and trade policy has not only spurred cultural and economic exchange, but also allowed me to see the potential for opportunity which these conditions have created in central-eastern Europe. I can only hope that more Americans choose to travel abroad, not to brashly visit an exotic locale, but instead to derive their own deeper meaning from the global environment in which the U.S. is situated.

On the way back from Slovenia it was light as the train passed through the Sava river gorge where my great-grandparents were born. I had been to the area before but had never seen it like this. Sheer forested hillsides of changing leaves sharply descended to a fast flowing emerald river. It was something I had only seen in landscape paintings. I stared in fascination at the latest gift my travels had given me until the train crossed into Hungary.

Ties of History and Faith

I barely ever went to church in California. Only on Christmas and Easter would I attend mass, hear the priest give a sermon on why most of the congregation should come the rest of the year, and then wait until the next of these holidays to return. However, while in Poland I began going to mass regularly and discovered that I actually liked it.

Once I got to Budapest, I saw a sign for the city’s Polish church. Since then I have made it a point to take the metro out to Budapest’s 10^th district every Sunday to attend Polish mass.

A few Sundays ago, the priest announced that this day was not only the first day of Blessed Pope John Paul II, but also was the 55^th anniversary of Hungary’s 1956 uprising against the Soviet regime. Understandably, this was a rather important day for both nations. The church had even planned the first communion of it’s Sunday school to coincide with it.

The mass began by blessing an image of the former Polish pope, and appealing to the the recently beatified pontiff. This only served to underscore to me the fact that while John Paul II is not yet a Saint, to many poles he might as well be already.

Of even more interest was the almost equal respect that the Polish speaking mass paid to the Hungarian October uprising. Like the Gdańsk shipyard uprising of the early 1970’s are regarded in Poland, this Budapest insurrection of similar import to the Hungarians. Throughout the mass the priest spoke of the importance of these events in building a good national foundation, and of the pope’s example in fostering solidarity between Christian and other peoples.

Judging by my experiences in America, mass was always about what people are doing wrong, but this one was an affirmation of what we have done right. Although it was about the past, it showed that their message still has relevance in the present day, and meaning for the future.

This experience exemplifies the sense of friendship between Poles and Magyars. While their cultures may be different, the journeys of faith and freedom that they have had to travel are strikingly similar. On that morning in mass it occurred to me that this manifestation would have been in keeping with the pope’s wishes. As one of my Friends from Kaliningrad put it: “Polak i Węgier, dwa bratanki.” Pole and Magyar, brothers in arms – and in faith.

Arts and Culture

During my first month in Budapest much of what I have learned about the Hungarian world view has been through their fine arts. My journey into the Magyar mentality began, as much does, in the Opera house. I had decided at the last minute attend the performance of a Hungarian opera entitled "Bank Ban" or The Viceroy Bank. Judging by the sheer number of dark themes, the opera was the darkest I have seen to date. It dealt with corruption, betrtrayal, rape, revenge, murder, infanticide, suicide, and plain simple death, in the space of just 3 hours. Unlike in many Slavic cultures there does not seem to be much glory in such suffering.

Even more interesting, was the attitude that Hungarians have to the production itself. The following evening I accompanied my landlady, a pianist, to a performance of the National Philharmonic. We took the tramwaj to the venue, along with one of her friends, a violinist in the concert. Instead of focusing on the Magyar national opera company's many strengths, he baselessly complained that it was inferior to Vienna's. Having seen both companies preform, it is my experience that, euro for euro, the opposite is true. They also told me that Magyar National Opera was in talks with Placido Domingo to bring the opera I had seen to LA, but that such talks were halted when LA Opera ran out of money. While they did bitterly complain about such mis-fortunates, it is important to note that the also warmly joked that exporting the opera was unnecessary as LA, in the person of myself, had come to them.

At the concert, one of the featured pieces was a suite from Bartok's ballet "The Miraculous Mandarin." Among other things, it dealt with the suffering of city-dwellers, through the main character of a whore, during the industrial revolution. During the intermission we discussed the present day implications of the piece. I pointed out that the subject matter and music, while avant-garde when it was premiered, fails to raise an eyebrow in the present day. This points to the increased callousness of man. My landlady agreed, but pointed out that, within the story, what positives there are remain timeless.

It seems to me that the Hungarians take a long term view when it comes to their philosophy of life. While the world inevitably gets worse over time, within those negatives one can always find reason to make life worth living. As I responded while the lights dimmed for the second movement "The more things change, the more they stay the same" Ironically, this is this mentality from which Hungary draws it's comfort.

Visiting Parliament

Two years ago I spent a week visiting Budapest as a tourist. Unfortunately, during this short amount of time I did not have a chance to take the tour of Budapest's famous parliament building. Last weekend, I had some time to finally take the tour.

It is not a easy matter to get on one of the guided tours of the building. It is still Hungary's functioning parliament and because of security concerns, finally gaining admittance to the building can involve hours of waiting. I decided to take the tour in Spanish because I did not have to wait quite so long for the next available tour. Even then I walked around the city for about 3 hours until the time that tour was to begin, but the wait was well worth it. Here are a few of the factual highlights:

• When the Hungarian parliament was built over 100 years ago, it was one of the most advanced in the world, featuring electricity, central heating and in the summer months, air conditioning. This was accomplished by blowing air over several tons of ice which had to be brought in every day.
• The parliament is the third largest in the world, after the buildings in Argentina and Romania. Like Romania's Palace of Parliament ( see earlier posts) all the materials used to build it are domestic products.
• The main rotunda houses the crown jewels of Hungary, they are rumored to be 1000 years old and used in the coronation of St. Stephen, Hungary's first king. The Hungarian state apparently will not allow the carbon dating of the crown to confirm this.
• Currently Hungary has a uni-camiral legislature. However at the time of the parliament's construction the country had dominion over Slovakia and Serbia, necessitating two houses of parliament. The quarters of the lower house are still used and are not open to visitors. Those of the upper house feature elaborate brass cigar holders outside the entrance to the chambers. They were numbered so that your cigar could be changed while parliament was in session.
• You can now rent the upper house's chambers for private functions. It costs many thousands of euros per hour.

While the tour was shorter than I expected. I found the building itself to be beautiful, and the tour informative, although a bit comedic. When some Argentinians in the group volunteered in their accent that the largest parliament in the world was in fact in Romania. The guide responded first by joking "Hey, We're speaking Spanish here!" proving a laugh from all present, including the Argentinians.

The Rudeness Factor

Last weekend, while I was walking around Budapest with my friend, we got into a discussion about the attitude of the people in Budapest. She had just finished eating at a restaurant and told me that the waiter was downright rude to her and the rest of the people she was eating with. He did not smile and grumbled under his breath in Magyar as he took their orders. When my friend asked him if they had done somthing to offend him, or if he was having a bad day, he was evasive of her questions, and refused to respond with anything but a confused "no."

This incident illuminates some of the major differences between the Western and Eastern European attitudes toward the service industry. Most Eastern European cultures do not understand or feel obligated to follow the Western adage of "service with a smile." Many of the Slavic cultures with which I am familiar regard stoicisim in higher standing, choosing instead to serve customers with a professional air of emotional neutrality. This lack of manufactured friendliness is often misinterpreted by westerners as "rudeness."

The waiter's grumbling was, in my experience, unprofessional by any standard of measurement. This type of attitude does seem alarmingly common in the fast-paced metropolis of Budapest, which I have heard spoken of as the New York of the East. In other former Soviet Bloc countires, from Romania to Albania, my business was greated with compotent service.
While my specific knowledge of Hungarian culture is not as complete as that of some other Eastern European countries, I am relatively sure that his was not the only cultural infraction committed here. I did not feel it necessary to inform my friend that her questions as to the details of her server's day were likely to have been considered just as impertinent by the waiter as his grumbling was to them. He was just getting paid to serve food; how dare a total stranger start asking him about his personal life?

Even being born and raised in the Western world, the idea of false friendliness on the part of company representatives has never made sense to me. As this entire set of behavior is mandated by the employers of these workers, such displays of welcoming emotion are meaningless. The experience of my friend shows that outright rudeness is always negative in any culture. However, I still believe that the West has much to learn from the East in this case. It is not fair to require employees to project a attitude of joy regarding mundane tasks, nor is it necessary for the customers to respond as if they believe it is genuine.

Budapest: City of Arts

During orientation for my semester in Budapest, we were told that it is theoretically possible to choose a different type of entertainment every day in Hungary's capital. After the last 48 hours I can believe it. Over the course of this weekend I have taken in everything from a modern instrumental concert, to bel canto opera, to a gypsy street preformance. Here are the past few days in quick review:

My initiation into the culture scene of Budapest came from America. One of my childhood and family friends, is now a singer touring through eastern Europe, Asia and the Middle
East with Yanni. So, I had the opportunity to come and see their show, which I greatly enjoyed. Afterwards, I was invited backstage to meet some of the other band members. Yanni himself seems not to meet with anyone apart from his other musicians. This is a decision which makes perfect sense to me, both as a regular opera-goer, and as a business student. It is one for which I applaud him. The point of musical events should be the quality of the product which is being offered, not the personality of the producer.

The following evening found me returning to the Magyar National Opera, for the first time in two years, to see Donzetti's Don Pasquale. The staging enhanced the comedic effect which opera was intended to have. I found the performance refreshing. The Hungarians seem to understand that the point of opera is to produce a good product, not to simply be more avant-garde than other opera companies. I am planning many returns to the opera house during the rest of my time here.

After my late arrival home from the opera on Saturday night, I woke up rather late the next day. Sunday afternoon I attended one of the many street fairs which the local athorities organize. This one was in the historic 5th district where they can be rather elaborate. I stopped to take in the performance of a gypsy dance troupe. Appropriately, most of the members were Hungarians, not acutal Roma. I paused to reflect on the last couple of days, and the importance of quality in entertaninment. Like most other comodities, it often can be a determining factor in commercial success. In this respect Budapest has done well for itself.

I just recived a call from my landlady, a professional pianist. She told me that she can get me free tickets for next weekend to the National Philharmonic. My response? Yes, please!

The Other Twin Towers

In my earlier posts, I commented on the aftermath of the conflict in Bosnia and what I was able to observe during my travels there. Now that I have settled in to Budapest for a semester abroad at Corvinus University in Hungary, I have more time to write. I find it somehow appropriate that I am sitting in front of the computer on the 10th annaiversary of 9/11.
The Twin Towers in New York were not the only ones in the world. Sarajevo also has its own set. They are located next to the Holiday Inn near the beginning of Sniper's Alley. These high-rises were quickly bombed out during the siege of the city in the early 90's. As defininig landmarks of Sarajevo's own sykline, their skeletons became a symbol of the lives lost and the devastation the country suffered during the war.
Even 15 years later, the towers are not the only signs of that devastation. From the time of my arrival, I was shocked by the state of the buildings in many parts of the city: bullet holes and craters from mortar impacts still riddle many of the buildings. In many cases the block's inhabitants have simply plugged the holes with whatever building material they can find, still unable to truly restore the bulding. Many of the city's main churches are still construction sites. While the famous old bridge in Mostar has been rebuilt, practically half of the city's buldings remain little more than burnt-out hulks.
In many ways Bosnia is still licking its wounds. Not only have Bosnia's people lived through a bloody civil conflict, but in the present day must live among their former enemies. In order to even make peace, the country had to be divided into 2 autonomous regions, one of Bosniaks and Croats. The other one is Republika Serpska (the same name as the country) where the Serbian flag is flown more from homes than the national Bosnian flag to this day. There are different versions of each banknote, one displaying historical figures from each ethnic group. The coins all feature a bird with a olive branch, and are clearly inscribed in both latin and cyrillic lettering with the phrase 'Glomb Mira' -- The Dove of Peace. Despite the passage of time, anger still exists on all sides. When I overheard one tourist ask her guide about the Serbian army during the conflict he responded almost harshly. "The Serbian FASCIST Army," he corrected her " because only fascisists like the Nazis could bomb hospitals, mosques and schools."
Despite such impediments, the country is rebulding. Sarajevo's twin towers recently were re-built, and serve once again as a business center. They stand not only as a monument to the past, but also as symbol of hope for the future. They show us how such tragic circumstances on a grand scale can change countires and the people who live in them, no matter where they are in the world. Most importantly, they remind us of the consequences of unfounded fear and hate.
The 9/11 memorial in New York has finally opened to the public. I hope it continues to remind America that we must continue the long process of healing and look toward the future.

On The Black Mountain.

I am on a time scedule, so I did not have time to see much of Montenegro. What I did see impressed me. Through bus windows I gazesd at pristine coastline and crystal clear lakes, dramatically set between towering canyons. I stayed in the captital, Podgorica. The city formally named "Titograd" has a distinctly communist-era feel, but also is replete with good cafe culture, I enjoyed what time I had there. Although I only spent a day in Montenegro what I did see made me hungry for more. I would like to return there, and see more of this strikingly beautiful country.

Thoughts over a Bosnian Breakfast

I was somewhat disappointed in the breakfast at my hotel in Sarajevo untill I noticed that the honey they served was beginning to crystalize, denoting it's high quality. After I started to enjoy the product, which had been imported from Croatia. I started to think about how I had come to be able to decern the various qualities and types of honey.
My my first experience with honey was one of teaching. It was in Panama during my freshman year of college. I was working as a translator on an expedition organized by the non-profit Global Business Brigades. We were consulting a group of honey farmers in the rual community of El Bale, who were attempting to form a co-op. It was here that the farmers taught me about the different types of honey, and the basics of its production. It was amazing for me to translate the business workshops we presented for them. Explaining concepts which people in the developed world take for granted, such as bookkeeping and credit systems, is an experience I will never forget.
My second experience was one of learning. While taking my Polish to the next level I twice visited my friends' families in Nowa Sarzyna, a small town in southeastern Poland. The grandfather of one of my friends runs a honey farm. He has been producing honey for many years. He took the time to teach me some of the finer points of honey farming . For instance, while it is common to see honey advertised as being from the pollen of a certain kind of plant, it is generally impossible to control what kind of flower the bees will pollenate, or whether they will choose to at all. He also told me how he remedies various hive-oriented parasitic infections, which the Panamanian farmers had struggled to solve.
The Polish grandfather also gave me business advice. He told me how he grew not only honey, but also raspberries and other fruits as well. He spoke of these matters as if it were easy for him to navigate the complicated agricultural regulations regarding the commercial sale of farm products. In this way, he was able to diversify in a makeshift rual economy, something which the Panamanians have also struggled with.
While eating my Bosnian breakfast, it occurred to me that it would be good to get these two groups together. The experence of an Polish honey farmer and businessman would be more valuable than any advice from some city-dwelling college students. The Panamanians could bring to the table their own experiences with growing a business in the modern day.
While translating across cultures I have learned much more than what to eat at breakfast; I have gained an understanding of the challenges businesses face across the world.

Two Dictators of the Western Balkans

As I have mentioned earlier, while I was in Serbia I had the opportunity to learn something about how Tito not only kept the various ethnic groups of that country together, but also did so while following a breakaway policy from the USSR. More recently, on a visit to Albania, I saw firsthand how the policies of the western Balkans' "other" despot, Envir Hoxha, have been truly detrimental to the country.

In many ways the policies of both dectators bear striking similarities. Both of them broke with Stalinist Russia, and followed independent socialist policies. However, Tito seemed to realize that going it alone came along with the need to from alliances with many other countries throughout the world. For this reason, much of his duties revolved around state visits to world leaders. This also had the function of keeping the people in his own country focused on him, whether they really liked him or not, rather than making war on other Yugoslav ethnic groups. The aggressive diplomatic foreign policy of Yugoslavia, considered to be one of the most "liberal" communist regimes, allowed the country to keep in step with the rest of the world as it modernized over the course of the 20th century.

On the other hand, while Hoxha also quickly broke with Russia, he took Albania down a path of isolation. After a short-lived alliance with China, the country found it self alone, without infrastructure, municipal funds or a viable economy. The country was even forced to resort to bulding a number of concrete bunkers as its only means of defense. After the dictator's death the situation went further downhill. Even after the communist regime fell, the economy collapsed multiple times in the 90's as it struggled to change its outdated ways overnight.

On my trip to Albania, the consequences of this isolation were apparent. Even finding transportation to or from the country is difficult. Both coming and going I had to resort to asking people on the street how to cross the border.

The country itself is the least "European" country I have visited in Europe so far. It reminds me more of the poorer parts of Peru. Even transportation within the country is difficult, as the road system has seemingly not been changed to reflect the movement of the country's capital from Dures to Tirana more than 80 years ago. The railway system is practically non-existent, and the tracks do not match up with any of those in the neighboring countires.

It's not that the Albanians don't want to modernize. Most Albanians are great admirers of the West, and of America. When President Bush visited the country in 2007, the Albanians named a rather large street in the capital after him.

When I stopped in to a local barber shop, the proprietor was very polite. When he finished cutting my hair he shook my hand and sincerely thanked me in heavily accented English. I think he was honored to have a customer from the West in his shop.

When leaving the country I was left with no recourse but to pay an elderly Albanian to drive me across the border in his ailing 1980's mercedes. I asked him in Spanish why the border police did not bother to stamp my passport. "You're an American," he informed me in Italian. "You don't need a visa or anything in Albania."

Coexistence

My train was 3 hours late, so I was rather ready to get out of my second- hand Slovenian sleeper compartment as the train finally neared the Capital of Macedonia. I had read a lot about the country, and heard it constantly spoken of as the birthplace of Old Church Slavonic by Slavic linguistics majors who I knew. As the train crested the hill, and the skyline of Skopje came into view I was shocked to count 2 short church steeples and 8 towering minarets.
While I have been to both heavily Muslim and Christian countries around the globe, no city so effectly blurs the lines between the two like Skopje. While the two populations live distinctly in different neighborhoods overlap occurs throughout the city. Women in burkhas, and men in prayer caps walk in front of the site where Mother Teresa was born. Bars and advertisements for the local beer abound in the Christian section of the city, but are conspicuously absent in the Albanian-Turkish neighborhood on the hill across the river, where it is common to see restaurants with Arabic names. It was a surreal feeling to hear the ringing of the church bells join with the call to prayer.
In many other Balkan countries , Orthodox and Muslim groups have turned to violence.

Although I have heard that there is some tension beneath the surface in Macedonia the two groups, while largely segregated, seem to live in relative peace. I simply point out that the city of Skopje stands as an example that such piece is possible in the Balkans and elsewhere..

A new perspective on Serbia

With a stomach full of French toast, a traditional Slovak dish, and home-made brandy, I bid farewell to my friend’s family, and set out for Serbia uncertain of what I would find. All my life I had heard stories of two different Serbias. I had heard stories of a beautiful country that was worth seeing, as well as of a country full of embittered, amoral and dishonest people. Both versions were wrong. I arrived in Belgrade late at night and checked into the hotel. The next morning I set out to see the city. I was excited to see the city which is famous for its ambiance. In short, Belgrade is the least continental city I have been to in Europe thus far. At many points if it were not for the Cyrillic signage I would have felt as if I were somewhere in the Inland Empire east of Los Angeles. The nicest parts of the city reminded me of old town Pasadena. That said, while I was only there for a short time I found the city to be very liveable.
It was intresting to see how the decade-old Kosovo conflict affected Belgrade. There are still a few buildings that lie in ruins from the NATO bombings. However there does not seem to be much municipal remorse regarding the ethnic cleansing in that province. In fact the only mention of that time period which I came across was a memorial to the children killed during the NATO bombings.
The only sight worth going out of your way for is Tito’s grave and museum. While the grave itself is unremarkable, the museum itself is fascinating. One really gets a feel for how Tito kept the various ethnic groups of Yugoslavia together.
While I was somewhat underwhelmed by the sights, the unexpected bright spot of Serbia turned out to be the people. Everyone I met in Serbia was polite and helpful. When I was confused regarding the train reservation system, one lady stepped in, told me how much a reservation was, and helped explain my situation to the conductor. After speaking to him in Serbian, she told me to follow him, and that he would find me a private sleeping compartment.
Sometimes the things we hear are not always accurate. My experience in Serbia would appear to illustrate this point. It is best not to judge based only on what you hear. In order to truly understand a situation you must see for yourself.

It's Not Greek

Starting from Middle School world history, American youth are taught about how Alexander the Great forged the Greek empire. Ironically, many Americans have never heard of the country which actually formed this territory.
The main square of Skopje in the Republic of Macedonia features a large statue of Alexander the Great, who built his empire after his father, Phillip II of Macedonia essentially conquered Hellenistic Greece.
While forging one of the largest empires in history isn’t a bad track record, the size and influence of Macedonia has had nowhere to go but down since that time. In the late 19th century Greece annexed the southern section of Macedonia and summarily decided that their section of Macedonia was the only legitimate one. Since Macedonia declared independence, this has lead to some disputes between the two countries. First of all Greece strenuously objects to the face that the Macedonians actually dare to call their country Macedonia. Even though the Macedonians agreed to adopt the official name ‘"the former Yugoslav republic of Macedonia," the Greeks still demand that the Macedonians cease continuing to describe themselves as such.

The original flag of Macedonia was a 16 pointed sun, of the type used by the ainchant empire. The Greek reaction was so strong (Greece actually levied a trade embargo against Macedonia over this) that the Macedonians eventually changed their flag and money.
In practice none of greece’s complaints have deterred the Macedonians. The old flag is still widely flown from homes kiosks and private boats, and the country is refered to simply as “ the republic of Macedonia, even on the money.
While the amount of arguing over something as simple as a name may seem out of proportion. Given the history of the two countries it make complete since. By demanding to be recognized simply as Macedonia, the people of that republic demand that their territory and role in history be recognize. However, in recognizing this fact Greece would be forced to publically admit that greek Macedonia is not originally Greek. This would also imply that Greece’s role in aiinchant history was somewhat more minor than they currently claim.

Before coming to the country of Macedonia I was somewhat aware of this situation. When my Classiscs professor gave a lecture about the Greek empire, I raised the question of the nationality of it’s King. After a few seconds of science my professor began to respond. His answer to my question was a long explanation which essentially amounted to “Alexander was Greek. Well, not really Greek, but close enough.” This confused response illustrates how the fact of Macedonian identity has yet to be widely recognized in the Western world.

The Power of Faith

When thinking of the world’s largest statue of Jesus Christ, images quickly come to mind of Rio De Janeiro’s Christ The Redeemer poised majestically over the city. However, the largest statue of the son of God is actually situated on the outskirts of Świebodzin, Poland. It is in a field across from the local Tesco. The Statue, entitled Christ the King, was completed last winter and was the dream of a local priest. Many Poles actually have expressed dislike for it complaining that it is tacky. There is still some argument as to which statue is actually bigger, as Brazil’s statue would still be larger if one doesn’t include the Man-made mound on which Christ the King sits. While in Poznań, I made the trip to this small town in western Poland to decide for myself.
Despite its size, the statue's out of the way location makes it hard to find. It seems an incongruous image to see such a large statue in a dusty agricultural field. The statue is never going to get many points for majesty of setting, or for quality of artwork and craftsmanship. It is clearly what could be built where it could be built. On the other hand, the fact that one town parish could build the largest statue of Jesus in the world, or even the mound it sits on, with nothing more than personal donations, makes quite a strong statement about the faith of the people who made this dream a reality. This statue stands, not only as a memorial to Christ’s life, but also as a testament to the power of belief in the present day. It reminds us that faith, no matter what god you belive in, is still important and powerful, even when not placed above our heads for all to see. While the debate about which statue is physically larger will most likely continue to rage, I can say with certainty that Christ the King, makes a powerful statement, not only through its size, but also through its story.

Polish Trains

Although I have spent a good deal of time in Poland, this year was my first time navigating the unbelievably complicated wonder that is the Polish railways system on my own. While most counties have one national service provider, Poland has two. The first , PKP, is a subsidiary of the national railways, while the other Przywozy Regionalne, is a private company and often the cheaper of the two. PKP sells tickets for both companies. There are also PR offices, which only sell PR tickets. To further complicate matters, there are multiple kinds of tickets for each company. From my travels this year here are some of the things I have learned the hard way about the Polish train tickets:
• Even if the signage says otherwise, PKP always sells ‘Regio’ tickets.
• If you buy a ticket from one company for the other it will still be printed on in the boarding card of the company you bought it from. Don’t let this fool you. The actual company and kind of ticket is denoted by unintelligible codes printed on the ticket.
• ‘Osobowy’( train with no seat reservations) tickets are cheaper. However, because all PR tickets are Osobowy, simply asking for one implies that you want a PR ticket. If you want a non inter-city PKP train, you need to specify this. In general it is a good idea to clearly specify the exact kind of ticket you want. If you are not picky about price, it is often just easiest to ask for a ticket on the next train to you destination.
• When you screw things up, you will be made to pay a fine and buy a new ticket. the conductor from the other company can stamp the old ticket so that this other company will redeem a percentage of its value. If you speak Polish, the conductors will be more then happy to explain what you did wrong and will usually take the time to explain the company codes to you.
• Many people just buy the ticket once they get on the train. When I tried this one conductor warned me that you have to pay a 10 zlotych fine if the ticket counter in the station you left from is open. I don’t know how they know if it is, but apparently they do.
• Just paying the 10 zl fine is better then getting caught with the wrong ticket.
On the day I was traveling from Poznan to Wroclaw, PR employees decided to go on strike. Instead of negatively affected, I found myself grateful that I only had to deal with one company. When I got to Wroclaw, I noticed that there is yet a third train company which operates in the Wroclaw area. To make matters worse this company sometimes runs combined trains with PR. There were so many kinds of trains that the lateness colum on the arrival/departure board, had to be co-opted in order to delineate all the different kinds of trains. If the train is late, as in Poland they often are, it reverts to showing arrival times, and you just have to guess what kind of train it is.

Perspectives on Nowa Huta

29 years ago my mother traveled to Poland as a journalist, to cover the country under martial law. She spent the Christmas vigil with a family in the infamous communist housing complex of Nowa Huta. I grew up hearing Nowa Huta essentially described as the epitome of all that was wrong in communist Poland. So, despite having been to Krakow three times, it was not until a few weeks ago that worked up the courage to take the tramwaj out to this section of the city.
What I found there surprised me. I had heard up to that point Nowa Huta was still one of the poorest and ugliest parts of Krakow. However, I found a well kept development, free of any obvious poverty. Compared to other block housing developments I have visited in Romania and Moldova, the buildings in Nowa Huta are in good condition. Graffiti, prolific in many parts of Poland, seemed to be kept to a minimum.
Despite the city’s current condition, reminders of its troubled past are still everywhere. It’s not that the scars of socialist era have yet to heal. The development was originally conceived as a model socialist utopia, but the present day residents of Nowa Huta seem to enjoy finding new and creative ways of giving the finger to the Bolsheviks. You pass from streets such as Solidarity Avenue to Pope John Paul II Street. The statue of Lenin which once dominated Nowa Huta’s Plac Centralny is conspicuously absent, replaced on the far end of the square by a monument to the Solidarity movement. A chapel has been consecrated on the site where the government's refusal to allow the residents to build a church incited riots. The cross originally in the field is now a monument. One of the inscriptions on the cross, a quote by Pope John Paul II reads “ from the cross in Nowa Huta began a new evangelism, the evangelism of a new milennium.” It was amazing to know that I was standing one of the spots where Poles began their fight for freedom.
With these thoughts in my head I decided to stop in at a café on the main square before heading back to Krakow. Soon after I sat down, one of Nowa Huta’s senior citizens, a resident of 50 years, entered and asked if he could sit with me. We began talking about how the city had changed. “Everything works now,” he opined, “but these days we lack community.” He proceeded to tell me of late nights at the cinema, and dancing until dawn in the city’s famous Restaracja Stylowa. "It was truly beautiful,” he added, “ but young people these days are only interested in new things.” His statement made more sense when my teacher later explained that the entertainment of which he spoke of were events organized by the communist party. Restaracja Stylowa is still there, but is now a tourist attraction that caters to communism tour groups. The way the old man in the café spoke of it, it sounded like it had closed long ago. For him , it may well have.

A Chilling Saturday

This is my fourth time in Poland. However, it was not until last weekend that circumstances allowed me to pay my respects at the camps of Auschwitz and Birkenau. Needless to say that it was a powerful experience. I have been to Dachau and Majdenek, but I was totally unprepared for the gravity of the location, just outside Krakow. Judging by my past experiences I was expecting a series of sagging wood shelters. Birkenau did fit this description, but because Auschwitz was originally an Army barracks, it consists of a conglomeration of finished brick buildings. If one did not know what had taken place there, it would have looked like just another set of early 20th century apartment buildings. What did occur was more horrific than at any of the other camps I have visited. While listening to stories of medical experiments and intentional mass extermination, I was shocked that human beings could be capable of such tasks. The camp commandant and his entire family even lived next to the gas chambers.

At many points around this living monument there were donation boxes for the restoration of the site, which apparently is falling into disrepair. I can only hope that these camps continue to stand as a monument to those who perished, and a reminder to never let such a tragedy happen again.

The Party That Never Ends

Roughly a week after the start of my arrival in Poland, the organizers of our language program announced that there would be a tour of of the city's old town. While I have been to Krakow many times I decided that this would be a good way to meet some new people, so I signed up. Instead of information about the old town's history, I had a discussion which I found to be somewhat shocking.
While on the tour I met a girl from Madrid, who eagerly asked me about the portrayals of American high school, which she had seen in Hollywood movies. According to her sources, the main goal of everyone in everyone in high school was to become either "a football player or a cheerleader." When I informed her that I and most students at my high school were much more concerned with getting a prefect score on the SAT and gaining admittance to a good university, she seemed almost to blame me for not living up to the unrealistic stereotypes set by popular western culture.
This experience highlights two negative ways in which exported American popular culture may influence those who consume it without any knowledge of actual life in the U.S. First: the obvious misrepresentation of real America. Second: the increasing tendency of a few Europeans to criticize Americans, for not living up to these same expectations.
While most Europeans I have met are honored by my goals of a career in eastern Europe, I have also met my share of those who respond by questioning why I would want to leave a country which in their view is free of problems and consequences. This in not their fault. Even in the smallest Polish towns the inhabitants are bombarded with a near-constant stream of media with such a theme. On the radio most American songs are about parties that never end in various American cities, while the most popular Polish one is about calling off a wedding at the last minute. Many Americans who come to Europe are on vacation and do party every night. It is only logical that some are going to draw the conclusion that this is an accurate representation of life in America.
As an American overseas, this can sometimes be frustrating. It is all I can do to say that America is a country with it's share of problems - like any other. It is up to the representatives of America abroad to set the record straight by providing a dignified, but accurate portrayal of life in their country.

Greece: Crisis Averted?

During my most recent stint of travel, I had the opportunity to spend a day in Greece. While this country has not been in the news for a few weeks, I still feel it necessary to put in my two cents regarding the economic situation there. Admittedly, I was only there a small amount of time. However, I was immediately impressed upon my arrival at the contrast between the amount of private wealth in the area, and the obvious signs of a bankrupt government. Once you leave the old town of Rhodes, there is new construction everywhere. Many of the cars are luxury brands. On the other hand, almost all of the government run historical attractions on the island were closed until further notice. Many ancient ruins which are falling into unceremonious disrepair.
While the closed, dilapidated historical attractions did suggest the imminence of a debt crisis, it is important to remember that much of the private growth is being propped up by public spending. Any meaningful attempt at austerity would mean a great reduction in Greece' s standard of living. As a result, it is easy to see why there have been in the past, threats to recall any Greek member of Parliament who votes for such measures.
Since my visit, the Greek government did finally manage to obtain some agreement regarding austerity, in return for an EU relief package. However, it remains to be seen whether the government will follow through with their promise of responsible spending.
Even though an imminent debt crisis seems to have been averted for the time being, it has been my experience that people from euro zone countries have stopped trusting Greece, and in many cases the euro. Many either do not trust Greece to follow through on it's obligations, or have expressed regret that their country in the euro zone.
With the economic issues I had seen exemplified on the island of Rhodes still fresh in my head I left the Mediterranean for Krakow. Shortly after my arrival I found myself discussing the situation with a Slovak woman over dinner. "The dollar was so strong that we were happy to get the euro" she told me in Polish " Now Slovakia must pay for Greece's spending.

Traveling through Turkey

I am currently in Poland and it has been a while since I have had time to blog. So before I forget some of the things I did while in Turkey I think it best to write them down and post.

On the first day in Istanbul, I set out to see the Blue Mosque with my family. It was here that we got our first introduction to how creative pushy salesmen can be in Turkey. Upon entering the mosque we were immediately accosted by a carpet salesman. He told us something about the history of the place and then insisted multiple times that we buy one of his carpets, even after we outright refused. This type of behavior was a problem throughout most of Turkey. It was impossible to stop at a restaurant or souvenir shop without being accosted. They only other place where I have encountered this type of hard sales technique has been in China. In my opinion this method of advertising can backfire, as we made a point of going only to the few restaurants that did not hassle us.

After while in Istanbul we also toured Hagia Sophia and many of the other mosques in the Sultanahmet area, as well as the Topkapi Palace.

The next stop on the trip was Cappadocia. It was a rather quick change of pace going from the bustling city to the the contorted fairy chimneys of Goreme. In many ways the small town was the exact opposite of Istanbul. The locals realize the tourists are their livelihood, and treat them with general respect. Even pigeons, which are considered to be nuisances in most major cities, are prized in Cappadocia for their soil-enriching droppings. It was interesting to see the plethora of different kinds of tourists that pass through this part of central Turkey.

During the next part of the trip we traveled down the so-called Turkish Riviera, starting near the world heritage site of Ephesus. As a Catholic it was an amazing experience to go to holy sights, In this part of Turkey, including where St. John wrote his gospel, and the last residence of the Virgin Mary. We continued down the coast in searing heat, stopping to look at many ruins, to Bodrum, where we decided to go scuba diving. While the cargo plane we dove on was interesting, the reefs on the Turkish cost are rather dead, and thus don't attract many fish.

One of my favorite places on this trip was the small fishing village of Turunc, near Marmaris, a mess of a commercial tourist town. Turunc is popular with Polish and Russian tourists, so I had fun practicing with them while there. during this time we also spent a day on the Greek island of Rhodes. The old town was amazing. After having this experience I hope to go to Malta or some similar location.

From this point we continued south along the Mediterranean coast to Kas. While here we took a kayaking expedition over an ancient sunken city, one of the most interesting things I have ever done. The tour ended in a small, very undeveloped town. While the Lycian tombs in the area were interesting. one of the most amazing things I saw were the children stationed throughout the town, peddling various bracelets or articles of clothing. When someone was even remotely interested in the merchandise, other children who were previously on the other side of the town would quickly appear to compete for business. I have no idea how they know when someone they cannot see is interested in buying. Many of them also need a lesson in western business, as they seem to think that "getting there second" is a good selling point.

After a night in Antalya, we returned to Istanbul. There was an opera festival going on there. I decided to avail myself fully of the Turkish state opera's offerings. The first opera we saw was Rossini's "Mehmet the Second'. While the music was rather pedestrian, the spin that the Turkish opera put on it was quite impressive. The opera had the largest cast I have ever seen, complete with horses. The staging was unmatched insofar as sheer grandeur. I found the decision of the directors to stop the scored music, and have the Sultan make his entrance the way he actually would have, accompanied by the actual guard and band from the Topkapi palace, to be quite interesting. It was well the trouble to see this opera, in an outdoor amphitheater, during a rainy night. I also saw a Modern Turkish opera, in the Topkapi palace. It was interesting to see how the composer reconciled the conventions of western music composition with the technicalities of the Turkish language.

On our last day in Turkey, we found ourselves returning to the Blue Mosque. I found that after a month in this unique country. I looked upon it with greater appreciation.

At-A-Turk

About three years ago I spent some time working in the Maldives, an Islamic republic where alcohol is forbidden and dogs are banned from the entire country. So, on my first night in Turkey, another largely Muslim nation, I was supprised to find myself on a roof terrace admiring the Blue Mosque, sipping a glass of wine, while the puppy on the roof next door howled in harmony with the sounds of the call to prayer. During my time in Turkey I learned that I could have this experience in the Turkish republic thanks to the country's founder and first president, Ataturk.
Apparently Ataturk founded the republic with the vision of a secular Muslum nation with strong ties to the west. While this may seem like somthing of a contradiction in terms, in practice the country runs rather well. In general people seem to have the freedom to be as devout or as casual about religion as they choose. On the streets the result is clearly visible; women covered in burkhas or wearing hijabs brush elbows with women in western dress, and Biblical relics that are also revered by Christians are displayed in Topkapi Palace alongside artifacts of the Muslim faith.
That said, Turkey still has its Muslim priorities. Most of the beer for sale is made by Efes, a tightly held beer monopoly, and all other forms of alchohol are heavly taxed. There seems to be a priority in the entire country for restoring Islamic holy buldings, while letting Greco-Roman and Christian ruins fall to dust. UNESCO and other organizations have stepped in to help restore some of the more prominent Byzantine attractions such as Santa Sophia, this is not the norm in the entire country. In Goreme, an old woman even showed as a medieval church with decaying frescos, which was being unceremoniously used for grain storage. At first, I questioned the wisdom of this attitide, but then I remembered that many European countries from hungary to Spain, have been slow to restore mosques that were converted into churches.
I heard many Turks speak of their loyalty to the principles of Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic. A hotel owner in Capadoccia told us that he made political decisions based on how much the polititians keep the country "on the way of Ataturk." It is also illegal to speak negatively of Turkey's first president in public. During the month I spent in the country I learned that this law is actually quite intelligent, as it seems to be in place with the aim of catching extremists and other dissenters before they can do violence. From what I observed, most of the country appears to genuinely respect Ataturk.
On our last day, in Turkey, we visited the bedroom where Ataturk died, at the early age of 57. When we asked the cause of his death, the tour guide simply told us that it was "too much smoking and drinking." There was no hint of malice in his voice.

The Burden of The Pound

While there are many things about England that I do like, the prices drive me up the wall. In economics there is a concept known as the purchasing power parody, which basically states that a good in one country will cost relatively as much as the same good to a person in another country. While this theory is not completely true, in loose terms it is true that people usually pay more where the currency is stronger and the cost of living is more expensive. With the pound sterling trading at roughly 1.7 times the dollar everything in London seems painfully expensive; everything seems to cost twice what it does in the U.S. For this reason, if I ever lived here I would have to be getting paid in pounds.

This however, would not resolve the whole problem. Apparently, it isn't simply the exchange rate that makes things seem expensive here, many Londoners also have been complaining, and even protesting, regarding the prices.

For some reason, this seems to be the case with strong currencies. Prices in many parts of the Euro Zone are too high to stimulate adequate growth, due to fiscal policy that is innapropriate to all but a few of the most devloped and economically sound of it's members. While the recent British austerity measures and their current monetary policy are necessary for the country's long term financial health, the fact remains that it causes unavoidable difficulty for people on the ground.

Pub Food Revisited

British food is often thought of as, in a word, bad. While I was here, for the most part I did not find this to be the case.

One of the first places I went after my arrival in London was the food halls of Harrod's department store. While the buildings of some Russian grocery stores I have been in are more impressive in detail, they cannot compete for sheer size. I was impressed not only by the amount, but also by the variety of foods they have. In many cases a french cheese stand is situated next to a dim sum counter.

During my time here I have eaten almost exclusively in pubs. In addition to having a good selection of beers and ales, the vast majority of the pubs I ate in viewed their food as more than merely something meant to settle your stomach between pints.

Despite what is apparently a recent trend toward improving the quality of cuisine in pubs, the food remains rather simple. It relies on high quality ingredients and preparation, instead of complex combinations of spices. The result of this is that traditional dishes such as steak and Guinness, and cottage pies, actually are a pleasure to eat. Some of the pubs have even ventured into creating their own culinary fusions. For example, when I ordered beef lasanga, what I got was a fusion between the traditional Italian dish, and a British meat pie.

As I have mentioned, these gastro-pubs do not focus on the kitchen at the expense of the bar. A pint of one of the many varieties of bitters on tap is the perfect complement to a simple but delicious meal.