Owning Uncertanty

This post has been a while in coming. I first drafted it almost two months ago while still on break in LA. At the time, it only felt like a half-baked idea. Now I think I’m ready to complete it:

Sometimes I could swear I lead two lives. One is European. The other remains in the U.S.  When I’m a part of one, the other seems as if it’s only a dream. Or, sometimes a nightmare.   

I first became interested in living abroad after a summer working as a broadcast media trainer in Maldives. That was almost 7 years ago. It all seemed so simple. You travel. You make your home in unheard of locales. You make your life your own.

But, in reality your life remains tied down to various obligations.  Culture, language and family are factors that divide. Yet, they pervade the planet.  It’s not so simple as I thought on the plane back from Male. Because of said complexity, this post will be an amalgam of many things. So, bear with me.  

I’ve already mentioned that I spent part of my February-March break at my family’s home in Los Angeles.  For part of that time the Sochi Olympic Games were televised.  Much of the coverage focused on so-called ‘extreme’ sports. Usually Americans dominate them in the Olympics.  I’ve always thought them too subjective to be included in international competition. The scoring is often about the ‘coolness’ of a performance. Contestants gain points for tricks of their own invention. 

One such trick was named the 'Yolo' Flip. Its inventor had to change citizenships from Russia to that of a country in the West in order to create it.  My father joked that he didn’t understand the necessity of leaving one’s country whenever it was brought to light that an athlete had sought another nationality in order to move forward. To him, national loyalty was a singular commitment defined by one’s birthright.  For me, that view betrays other possibilities of success. Ideological  assuredness regarding one’s current situation prevents one from aspiring further.  

Most my age learned the first part of the Yolo flip’s name as a matter of popular discourse.  It wasn’t until college that a friend defined to me it as ‘the teenage Carpe Diem’.  Except, Carpe Diem wasn’t originally meant to signify it’s usually accepted modern meaning.  During graduate school, I was informed that the Latin term was not coined as an excuse for unmitigated risk taking. Instead it’s an exhortation to do what we can today.  Tomorrow cannot be dictated; your day may never come. Yet, you must plan for it.

Thus, the concepts of ‘Yolo’ and Carpe Diem are opposed. The first implies a false positive causality between present rash action and future success. The second focuses on the now. But, it denies a possible promise of what may come through rational action.  Between these two options, it is easy to adopt a siege mentality.  To protect and preserve in personal mythology what one perceives as past achievements amid dubious promises of the future.

 Transmuting the above philosophical conflict to a national level, it seems almost fitting that Ukraine and Russia came into conflict over Crimea and Ukraine’s Eastern regions after the Olympics. Ukraine moves toward its own future. Regardless of prohibitive losses to practical consequences, it lives in the moment.  Russia protects regional interests. Reasserting influence it conceives as its own, it works methodically toward a future that may not be as bright as past glories.

I traveled to the disputed areas in the above mentioned region a bit over a year ago. Many there are of a dual heritage.  Each lives one life.  Paradoxically, it seems that they must now choose between two opposing, yet related sides. Neither philosophical attitude towards the future provides a mutual solution.

There’s a third version of understanding the Yolo/ Carpe Diem concept. I heard it from from a Star Trek Voyager episode: ‘Own the Day’.  A battle cry, it carries baggage from past consequences but no expectations for what is to come. It allows for the possibility of re-defining conceptualizations. For making two identities one, wherever they may end up. Semantically, it does so by striking a balance between throwing caution to the wind and internalizing future pitfalls despite best efforts. ‘Own the Day’ acknowledges that one only does what one can, given certain goals and circumstances.      

One cannot control the future, nor deny its existence. One can only own the day. 

On The Stress of Travel and Being

 Everything has an end point. An apex.  A rock bottom. That place where the only direction you can go is down or up. Or maybe nowhere at all.

One of my many nicknames is The Prize Winning Travel Pig named Andrew. The etymology of this in-joke is lengthy. Suffice it to say that it refers to an ability to win competitions: admissions and awards which are conducive to continued travels.

When I arrived for grad school in Wroclaw, I expected to settle well into local life. My summer internship in Thailand and Cambodia had been one of my more trying positions. My home-stay in Pakistan was an eye opening but uncertain adventure.  It was time to head back down. I know and love Poland. Travel there would be like coming home to a different world.

Then I got called away to Slovenia for citizenship matters. Twice to Ukraine for scholarship reasons. And back to South Hills for Christmas break.  Professors complained regarding my absences. I made a comeback to earn the equivalent of straight A’s that January. Even as Poland’s winter took its toll.  I still felt like I needed a vacation after I returned from February’s family trip through Italy, Malta and Tunisia.
That wasn’t an option. One of my closest friends contacted me while I was in Valletta  She wanted to know if she could visit in Poland. I knew the country and language. So, she asked if I’d show her the major cities. Of course I agreed. I immensely enjoyed my friend's company. The exercise of the trip drove me into the ground. I’d hit rock bottom. It was time to rest.

My USC Marshall international studies coordinator always encouraged students to develop a connection with were one studies abroad, instead of compulsively traveling to neighboring countries. I agree with him. During this semester I was finally able to take his advice.

It was liberating.  For the first time in a while, I lived at a slower pace for an extended time period. I attended class and cooked my meals. I dealt with reading of my utility meters. As corny as it sounds, I had time to contemplate my existence.

The liberation became oppressive after a few months. Attending class and going to the store became an outing. The squeal of a neighbor’s door bell began to spike my nerves.  My refuge became contemplation of my past through novels and childhood escapades.  There was no promise in the future. No reason to look forward.

 I enjoyed my time in Wroclaw. But after a few months, everyday activities became strenuous. I’ll have been here basically 4 months by June. I haven’t stayed in any city that long since I was 16. Stress is a masochistic alcohol. The less one habitually intakes, the more it’s effect.

I’ve contacted the same friend who visited me in Poland. We’re going to Ireland this June. The next family trip is in the works. It will be in some tropical local. I’ll be interning in Luxembourg this summer too. Hopefully, it will lead to farther opportunities.  The only place to go is up. The only way out is through. It’s time to reach for a new apex. 

The Fourth Toast

I was freezing my ass off.  It was the first day of my two week sojourn through Ukraine. My bus failed to arrive.  Finally, I made my way to the hotel where I habitually stay while in Lwow.   

After an overnight train ride, all I could hope for was a few hours of sleep. My first Rotary presentation wasn’t until the next day. One of my professors assigned me two multi-page research reports, as I would be missing class. Quite annoyed, I started into the first of the reports and finished the next day. Then, I rushed to the Rotary meeting.

My first presentation went well.  At first I was surprised that there was no meal before my presentation. Then I found out why. “After the meeting we usually have a reception” one Rotarian told me. Then came a difficult choice: Vodka or Cognac?

Here I first learned of a Ukrainian tradition: Making toasts. We began by toasting Rotary, then friendship. The third toast was to women. I later heard that women cut men’s ties if the third toast isn’t for them. After that “just some words” are all that’s needed. It’s the exercise of the toast that’s important. “Without toasting its just booze” my Lwow contact informed me.

 A similarly ‘toasted’ Rotarian drove me back to my hotel.  I felt a renewed happiness to be in the moment. It washed away the difficult circumstances of my arrival.

This feeling prevailed through the rest of my trip. My presentation in Alushta was made over more than a few shots of grapa.  Afterwards, a resort owner insisted that I stay at his establishment. It was closed for the summer. The restaurant was opened for me every morning .

I rented a car in Crimea. There, got to feel the exhilaration of Ukrainian driving - passing on curves and barreling down narrow streets. One such avenue led to the famous Liavadia palace. It was a serene experience to walk in the footsteps of Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin.

Later, I met with Yalta’s Rotaract. They saw to it that my car was loaded down with more local wines than the passenger seat could hold. I was beginning to like this country.  

Yet, it’s still marked by it Ruso-communist past. This doesn’t stop at the stereotypical boozing.  In central-eastern Europe, or even Moscow, you must attend an exhibit to see Soviet monuments.  In eastern Ukraine Lenin still greets you in the main square.  

This part of the country is ethnically Russian.  Many don’t agree with communist political beliefs. They view these symbols as monuments of a time when Russia ruled the roost. In Yalta, the younger generation wished that the statues would be removed.  “We are Russian speaking, but I don’t like the Russians who come here” one opined.

 I didn’t get the chance to finish my presentation in Charkow. They stopped me.  Someone poured the vodka. It was the easiest money I’d ever earned.

The express to Kiev traveled at over 160 KPH. That wasn’t why I couldn’t get my bearings. As I made my way to the nation’s capital, I wondered really constituted Ukraine. I’d seen the four corners of the country. Despite a soviet commonality, it felt like I was in different countries for the whole trip.

I was still freezing my ass off as I walked the hills of Kiev. But, this time it was with a new respect of the levity that it entailed. The similar diversity of a nation constructed from its past. 

An Instructive Journey

 One of my classes this semester is about Russian politics. This includes the brake-up of the USSR.  The professor is Moldovan. Last week she questioned the wisdom of Gorbachev’s policies, which led to the sudden brake up of the Soviet Union.  She opined that his attempt to reform the political and economic systems of the country toward democratic capitalism, while retaining the basics of communism, was untenable. It caused economic and social hardship.  

After the collapse of the country, the right to vote was a small condolence to its people. With the exception of the Baltic States, they’d never fought for democratic freedom. They had no idea of its significance. “The Baltic States are the only ones that more or less function properly” my professor added.

Last weekend I returned to the former USSR.  I went to Lwow in western Ukraine to speak at a Rotary seminar. Before World War II it used to be a Polish city. But, the cultural differences were like a slap in the face.

 I tried to buy an opera ticket for a performance the following day. I asked if I could have a ticket to ‘Il Travatore’ and was simply told “no”. I inquired as to whether this was because it was sold out.  “Today there are no tickets”.  I finally specified the next day and got a ticket.

At the Rotary Seminar, I met a man of Ukrainian decent.  Raised in the U.S., he returned to his homeland. He reminded me that Poland was never in the Soviet Union.  Here people lived under the auspices of the KGB. You learned not to volunteer any information that wasn’t absolutely necessary.     

He also commented on the level of service in Ukrainian hotels, pointing to employees ironing tablecloths in the middle of the hotel’s restaurant. “And they have the nerve to call this a four star hotel?” he asked jokingly.

I came to the conference with hope that I would get invited to present in Poland. I got about five invitations. They were all from Ukrainians. The Poles seemed uninterested.  Ukraine and the rest of the former USSR must travel a difficult path to transition. Ukraine’s GDP has fallen by over 50% since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Russian life expectancy is plummeting.  Yet, the enthusiasm is clearly there.

I left the seminar and headed for the opera house.  Along the way I saw older women in babuszki selling produce along the side of the road. Some claim that this part of the world has no entrepreneurial spirit. They are wrong.

The opera had some technical difficulties.  The chorus didn’t sing in unison, the orchestra overpowered the singers and some leads couldn’t control their vibrato. Despite its Hapsburg era opera house, Lwow is a relatively provincial Ukrainian city. Anyone with more talent could be hired away to Kiev or the E.U.

Russian public opinion polls show that many think the best times during the 20^th century were during the Brezhnev era. Employment and housing were guaranteed, and the price of goods was less than the cost of production. The problem was that it wasn’t sustainable.

Maybe the opera in Lwow might have been better during communist times. But that ticket would have been bought at the expense of the future.  

Gorbachev may have gone too far too fast, but the transition had to happen.  The USSR eventually had to face reality.

I look at the debt amassed by the U.S. and some European countries. The prevailing ‘tax and spend’ mentality. They must learn from history. They must make tough decisions. 

Work and Play in Poland

It has been a while since I have had time to update this blog. After completing my internship in Romania, I traveled to Krakow for an intensive Polish language program at Jagiellonian University. Shortly after arrival there, our entire group was ushered into one of the university’s oldest lecture halls for the official inauguration of the program. As part of the opening festivities the U.S. Consul General addressed me and my peers.
“Let me tell you the Polish language is tough,” the consul warned us. He added that our curriculum was so intense, that between study, sleep, and fun, there were only enough hours in the day for us to “pick any two.” At the time I thought he was joking, but as I soon found out his words rang true.
My first wake up call came during the placement test, which was right after the inauguration. I already spoke a good amount of Polish and expected that I would be placed in one of the intermediate levels. So I was disappointed when the results came out, to find that I had been placed one of the beginning levels, along with many other non- native speakers, many of whom had taken four semesters of university level Polish in the US. Despite this, the subject matter on the first day of class confirmed suspicions that I had been placed too low. I began to attempt to move to a higher level. While at first my efforts met with little success, after two days I was finally granted grudging permission to move to the intermediate level.
My new level proved to be very challenging. In addition to this I decided to further test my abilities by enrolling in a college level course on Polish history, taught in Polish, which I finished with an A.
On the weekends I managed to have a life outside the course. I greatly enjoyed hiking in the Tatarskie mountains, and visiting my roommates’ families in the small town of Nowa Sarzynna. My weekend trip to Ukraine proved to me that while Poland’s neighbor is beautiful, it can also be somewhat dangerous. I narrowly avoided being ripped off by the local gangsters. The highlight of my trip was finally getting to meet my own Polish family in person. While the courses proved instructive, I have to say that I learned the most, simply visiting with my Polish friends and family.
The final day of the program was also my birthday. My friends and I prepared for a final night on the town before going our separate ways. That evening the management called one final meeting of the students in the Stolowka, the dining hall in the building where we stayed. It quickly became apparent the purpose of this meeting was to give out awards. I had only been grudgingly admitted into my level, and was not expecting much from this ceremony. So, I was shocked when I heard my name. The president of the program recognized me for the highest marks and outstanding achievement on the intermediate level.
I came to Poland already knowing that I had an affinity for its people and culture. My experiences this summer have strengthened my determination to return next summer to continue my studies in Krakow. I hope to combine this with a business internship in May and June. I am currently on an accelerated track to complete my business degree by June 2012 and then begin the adventure of graduate school or a job in Eastern Europe.