Serbia: January 13

Belgrade by day is a much more welcoming sight, especially since we’ve seen the sun so rarely during this trip.  It was always cloudy in Berlin, and only partly sunny in Budapest.  Unfamiliar things are best approached in the light of day, they seem to hold few surprises in for the unwary.

We had a native guide with us, Vlado, who took us on a walking tour of the most beautiful parts of the city.  That served as a good second impression; Belgrade was trying to make up for the rather unflattering show we saw last night.  The new, more welcoming aspect, was perhaps best symbolized by the dog that kept following us through one of the historic parks.  Some of us nicknamed him “Patriot” for that reason, he seemed to make the park his territory, and be our escort along with Vlado.

I’m always very interested in the historical sites of any new city I visit, and this park was rich with them.  In fact, I think every section of Serbian history was reflected in one structure or another.  One thing Belgrade had there which set it apart from Berlin and Budapest, but in common with Paris and London, was the old Roman fortification that the city was later built around.  We could see the old foundations there.

There were Orthodox Churches just outside the park, which told of the Byzantine history.  A collection of shields below an extension to the fortifications represented the medieval kingdom, and through the gate we could see a tomb of a Turkish Pasha, remnant of the old Ottoman Rule.  A monument and embassy to the French was also there, showing the friendship between the two countries following Serbian independence and WWII.  Also, there were communist busts, showing various leaders of the anti-fascist partisans.  All in all, a very fascinating tour.

Interestingly enough, I also got an answer from our local guide about yesterday’s question regarding the lack of street signs.  They’re supposed to be on every cross-road, both in Cyrillic and Latin, but many aren’t, and those that are tend to be posted in Cyrillic only, on the sides of buildings.  There were two reasons that were given; one is that Serbia is not a very mobile society, like America.  People tend to live their lives in the same place, so they know the place well, and there’s not a lot of incentive to put up signs telling them what they already know, however much of a hassle it is for visitors.  Secondly, they’re rather apathetic, politically, and have no civic habit of petitioning local government to overcome its shortfalls. 

Our guide told us that he was part of a new political party [called the “New Party”], which was going to try and change this, by injecting new ideas into the political discourse, and engaging the citizens more.  Only time will tell, I suppose, how successful he is going to be.

After that, we met two students at the University of Belgrade, who answered questions about going to school in Serbia, what the education system was like, what were the best places to go for the nightlife in Belgrade, etc.  It was neat being able to meet them, and hear firsthand their experiences.  Their prospects of finding a good job in Serbia are unfortunately slim; change has come slowly to the old socialist economy, and few jobs are available.  Serbia’s best minds are leaving elsewhere for better opportunities, which doesn’t help the country much.  Still, they assured us, things are getting better, and if at all possible, they will stay to see.

Later this evening, me and four others went to a very highly recommended restaurant for dinner. We were out there in old Belgrade, having a good time and watching the locals have a good time as well.  It was the New Year, according to the Orthodox Julian calendar, and everyone was coming out to celebrate.  After a large amount of good food, wine, music, and conversation, I was feeling at peace and loving towards all the world, especially the little corner of it that I was now in.

As we left, a random guy just seemed to come out of nowhere, spouting off to us in English, “See, see?  This is why people kill each other off in Belgrade!  I’m going back there to blow that ******’s head right the **** off!” 

At that point, we decided to return to the hotel.

Happy New Year, Serbia.  Here’s to a better one than before.

Serbia: January 12

The most important things for a traveler to report are things he did not expect, and the things he cannot readily explain.  Usually, if we have an explanation close to hand for something we just saw, it generally comes from our preconceived notions about a country, and not necessarily from the true causes.  However, a complete surprise takes us out of our prejudices, and can reveal to us an actual glimpse of another country, and the realities behind it.

In Belgrade, the one unexpected thing was the street signs.  Or rather, the lack thereof.  In the US, and in most Western European cities, every single crossroads and junction has a little signpost labeling each road.  Often, they’re found on traffic lights and stop signs, as a convenient place.  If you’ve grown up with that, you tend to think of it as a normal part of any city.  Walking in Belgrade during the evening, I couldn’t see any, which came as a complete surprise to me, and not a pleasant one either, given that I was trying to navigate by a street map.

I don’t know why they’re not there.  It’s possible, of course, that they were there and I didn’t notice.  My map was made for tourists, and all the street names are written in the Latin Alphabet.  If there were signs using Cyrillic, I may have just skipped over them visually.  If that’s so, though, the street signs here follow a different pattern and design from the ones at home.

That was just one detail I noticed out of many, but the overarching thing I’m feeling right now is a general sense of culture shock, I guess.  I’m not sure what triggered it; in Berlin I didn’t feel like I was in an alien culture, even though I was in a foreign country.  It was a metropolis of Western Culture, the same that I’ve lived my whole life in.  The language may have been different, but the norms are pretty much the same.

In Budapest, it was a little different, but nothing too shocking, or anything that would make me feel unwelcomed.  There was a touch of the exotic, the feeling that I was definitely in Central Europe, and not Western Europe, but there wasn’t anything particularly hostile about it.  Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing many street signs there, either, but I was able to find my way around due to the frequent underground train stops that showed up at regular intervals.

In Belgrade, however, there was an entirely different atmosphere.  Most other people in my group remarked on it too; somehow it just wasn’t as welcome or accommodating as the other two cities.  We felt the absence of a native guide acutely, and were more quick to suspect hostility in the locals.  It’s hard to pin down the causes of this difference; it may have been partially due to the fact that no one was here to welcome us, unlike in Berlin and Budapest, where we had a local guide.  The presence of the Cyrillic alphabet, too, may have given us the impression of an alien culture.  Perhaps, also, might be the knowledge that as Americans, we cannot expect to be automatically liked here; not just because of the Communist history, but also of more recent military excursions against the Serbs..

I, personally, felt that at last I had entered Eastern Europe, whatever that meant. 

I’m not sure I could tell you what Eastern Europe is, but If I even get an answer to why there are no street signs in Belgrade, I think I might be able to.

Serbia: January 12

The most important things for a traveler to report are things he did not expect, and the things he cannot readily explain.  Usually, if we have an explanation close to hand for something we just saw, it generally comes from our preconceived notions about a country, and not necessarily from the true causes.  However, a complete surprise takes us out of our prejudices, and can reveal to us an actual glimpse of another country, and the realities behind it.

In Belgrade, the one unexpected thing was the street signs.  Or rather, the lack thereof.  In the US, and in most Western European cities, every single crossroads and junction has a little signpost labeling each road.  Often, they’re found on traffic lights and stop signs, as a convenient place.  If you’ve grown up with that, you tend to think of it as a normal part of any city.  Walking in Belgrade during the evening, I couldn’t see any, which came as a complete surprise to me, and not a pleasant one either, given that I was trying to navigate by a street map.

I don’t know why they’re not there.  It’s possible, of course, that they were there and I didn’t notice.  My map was made for tourists, and all the street names are written in the Latin Alphabet.  If there were signs using Cyrillic, I may have just skipped over them visually.  If that’s so, though, the street signs here follow a different pattern and design from the ones at home.

That was just one detail I noticed out of many, but the overarching thing I’m feeling right now is a general sense of culture shock, I guess.  I’m not sure what triggered it; in Berlin I didn’t feel like I was in an alien culture, even though I was in a foreign country.  It was a metropolis of Western Culture, the same that I’ve lived my whole life in.  The language may have been different, but the norms are pretty much the same.

In Budapest, it was a little different, but nothing too shocking, or anything that would make me feel unwelcomed.  There was a touch of the exotic, the feeling that I was definitely in Central Europe, and not Western Europe, but there wasn’t anything particularly hostile about it.  Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing many street signs there, either, but I was able to find my way around due to the frequent underground train stops that showed up at regular intervals.

In Belgrade, however, there was an entirely different atmosphere.  Most other people in my group remarked on it too; somehow it just wasn’t as welcome or accommodating as the other two cities.  We felt the absence of a native guide acutely, and were more quick to suspect hostility in the locals.  It’s hard to pin down the causes of this difference; it may have been partially due to the fact that no one was here to welcome us, unlike in Berlin and Budapest, where we had a local guide.  The presence of the Cyrillic alphabet, too, may have given us the impression of an alien culture.  Perhaps, also, might be the knowledge that as Americans, we cannot expect to be automatically liked here; not just because of the Communist history, but also of more recent military excursions against the Serbs..

I, personally, felt that at last I had entered Eastern Europe, whatever that meant. 

I’m not sure I could tell you what Eastern Europe is, but If I even get an answer to why there are no street signs in Belgrade, I think I might be able to.

Hungary: January 11

Last night I attended a mass at Saint Stephen’s Bascilica in Budapest.  That in itself was a little unusual; many churches in Europe, especially the large and architecturally intricate, seem to exist more as museums than actual homes for congregations.  In Hungary, however, all the churches do actually function as such, though their upkeep is paid for more by tourist money than the tithes of the regular attendees, if not subsidized by the state.

The congregation when I went was small, but it was a weekday mass.  Besides one or two others, the group I came with were the only non-Hungarians there.  Obviously, the service wasn’t meant for us.  It’s a little odd to think of the concept of tourists among the worshipers of God, but upon consideration, perhaps it wasn’t all that inappropriate.  When we read of crowds following Jesus in the gospels, they weren’t all his disciples.  Most, probably, were simple ordinary people that came to see what all the fuss was all about.

That is probably the best explanation for why I was there, in any case.  I am a Christian, though not a Roman Catholic.  I’m not at all familiar with the mass litany, especially when its not in English, so I probably understood even less about what really brought the locals here as any of the crowds who could at least speak the same language as Christ.

The building itself, though, required no translation.  It was beautiful, both in the outside evening air, with a dusting of snow on the roof, and inside, with the statues and paintings on the wall and ceiling.  It was still decorated for Christmas, too, with a nativity set in carved and painted wood, and greenery at the front.  There was something in that when I saw it that called to mind the fellowship of Christ and his church, transcending national and language barriers.  This was architecture built to the glory of God, I felt, stone carved for worship, and not idolatry.

During the mass, I just observed for the first few minutes, having come in late.  Then, I began to pray.

Mostly, I prayed for Hungary.  The lectures I had on the state of the county were still weighing on my mind; the economy was sputtering, bringing negative social impacts in it’s wake; the political party in power had just gutted the democratic process, leaving the constitution in shambles before the people could develop civic habits after the fall of communism; and the poor and outcast peoples in this country, especially the Roma, were dealing with the brunt of frustrations, manifesting themselves in hate, discrimination, and fear.

“Assuredly I say to you, in as much as you did it to the least of these My brethren, you do also to me.” That verse from Matthew 25:40 kept recurring in my head as I sat there in prayer.  If the giant statue of the Son of Man at the front of the Church had come to life and spoken then, I felt that was what He would have said.  If there was ever such a country that needed the Grace of God, it was this.  But all nations have the same judge, and the same Savior.  What do we do to the least of these?

Before, I remember passing beggars by in the cities we visited.  Today, I felt convicted to dig some florints out of my pocket for an old man begging outside of the Turkish Baths.  God Bless him and his people.

Hungary: January 10

"A classis liberal may be defined thus: If he could by the wave of his hand silence all the liars, prevaricators, empty political speeches and provocateurs of the world forever, he would not wave his hand."
-G.K. Chesterton

I've just come back from a fascinating and very rich set of three lectures, in which the economy, social issues, and political issues of Hungary were discussed and explored.  There was a lot of information there for me to digest, and it would be near-impossible for me to go into detail in a simple blog entry.  The overall impression, however, can be summed up in the title of the third lecture, "Hungary: A Beautiful Country in Big Trouble."

One recurring theme that ran through the series of lecture was how paradoxical the situation is here.  One prime example is how the democratic system is being run in an authoritarian way by the current government of Hungary.  Another, perhaps, might be the majority government of 1994 in Hungary, who were more concerned about limiting their own power than that of the opposition.

The one which stuck in my mind, however, was a dual paradox, in how Hungary and the US have diverged in their approach to Free Speech, and the actual effect that has had upon each country's discourse.
The United States was founded on the Classic Liberal Tradition, best exemplified in John Stuart Mill, in which speech is practically unlimited.  Even pro-fascist speech and demonstration is legally tolerated, which would probably seem absurd to the countries which have actually had to live through such regimes.
Hungary, being one such country, follows more the ideas of Empiricist Karl Popper, who puts forward the idea that to protect the general openness of society, some doors have to be closed.  Hate speech, pro-fascist speech, etc. can and ought to be legally restricted in order to protect the greater dignity of the people such speech might target.

What, however, has resulted from the divergence?  Hungary now has an openly anti-Roma party in the Parliament, and it is the 3rd largest sitting there.  The founding member of the governing party has even written an op-ed in which he equates the Roma with animals, saying that they have no place in a civilized society.

This is not happening in the United States, at least not now.  While not illegal, there is a lot of cultural pressure that tends to keep such overtly racist discourse out of the mainstream.  The paradox is, that this cultural pressure, which acts in a much more effective way than Hungarian efforts at censorship, developed in a country that upheld free speech to a fuller extent.  Such cultural pressure does not have a parallel in Hungary, even though racist discourse was outright forbidden by the Communists (who preferred classist discourse), and still illegalized by the current Hungarian laws.

It may be stretching a point to infer causality, but not beyond the realms of logic.  Hate that is left in the light of the sun is an easier target for ridicule and reason.  Hide it in the dark, and it grows like a fungus on the corruption in the human heart.

Hungary: January 9

Today I had the opportunity to compare and contrast how Budapest dealt with its communist past with how Berlin dealt with it.  The first point of contrast were the monuments; all the communist propaganda that was fashioned in stone and iron, and set up on every square in the capitals of communist regimes.
In Berlin, I don't remember seeing any of them, and the populace didn't bother to keep them around.  Our guide pointed out where a statue of Lenin used to be, but there's only a few stones there now.  I don't remember what eventually happened to it, perhaps it was destroyed.

In Budapest, or rather, just outside it, there is a Statue park, where all the old monuments were put after the democratization of the early 90's.  They were set up there as a memorial, to show what had been there before, and later more exhibits were added to the park, to explain what living life in their shadow was like.

The second difference, and by far the most striking, is the way in which the former State Secret Police were exhibited to the public.  In Germany, many of them still live, and publish books attempting to justify their actions as carrying out the laws of their government, while the former victims have taken over the prison, and personally escort visitors through as they tell their stories, in an ongoing battle to wrest control of the historical narrative from the Stasi.

In Hungary, there's not that sense of a battle over history.  No one defends the AVO, AVH, or any of the enforcement apparati of the Hungarian Communist regime.  In the House of Terror, there is an entire room where the employees and officers all have their names and photos on the wall, labeled "victimizers" and called murderers in no uncertain terms.  You would never see that in Germany, not yet at any rate.

There are probably many reasons why the difference existed, but I think the biggest has to do with the fact that the years of the Communist regime tend to be referred to as "the Soviet Occupation," giving all the regime members the taint of collaborating with an invader.  The AVH couldn't plead loyalty to the state of Hungary like the Stasi, because the people of Hungary don't think of the former regime as legitimate.  It's a little odd to reflect that the GDR managed to get itself seen as more legitimate in retrospect, considering that it dissolved entirely as a state; while Hungary is still here.  But perhaps the real state of Hungary was only buried temporarily under the Red Enamel, and will not consider it a legitimate part of the national architecture.

Germany-Hungary: January 7-8

Our time in Germany ended with a lecture at the Free University of Berlin, an institution that was founded for the purpose of enabling students from the US to study in Berlin, with the term schedule and language they're accustomed to.  The professors spent a good amount of time "selling" the opportunity to spend a semester studying abroad in Berlin, and I will say that if I wasn't graduating this Spring, I would have given it serious consideration.

What I saw of Berlin made me fascinated, but not alienated.  Even after less than a week, all of us who stayed could really feel comfortable in the city, and from looking around, I could see that there was a significant expatriate presence in Berlin.  I'd already started to pick up a little German by staying, and time and effort could give me enough to communicate.

When I try to figure out why I felt that I could live an extended time away from my home country in that city, I believe it is the cosmopolitan atmosphere of Berlin, which it holds common with, say, New York.  True, there is enough of the city to make it "German," though it isn't like anywhere else in Germany.  In fact, the large foreign presence that the city has had, especially in the latter half of the 20th century, has probably the most to do with its modern atmosphere.
In any case, it is a place I would go to again, for a much longer stay, if the opportunities were right.


After a night train ride, we're all now in Budapest (on the Pesht side, to be exact).  Already I can feel a bit of a difference in the atmosphere.  Like Berlin, Budapest had to rebuild most of itself after WWII, but it was rebuilt more according to what was there already, rather than demolishing entire city blocks to modernize them, like Berlin.  True, there are some attempts to build newer-looking structures, but overall there's a more "Hungarian" look to the place, which I think it really quite beautiful, though I'm not as sure that I'd like to live here.