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."