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Cultural Ambience

Budapest, like many other European cities, has loads of cultural activities to offer. I have only recently taken advantage of these opportunities. There are dozens of free museums, cinemas, galleries, and of the like. This past weekend was the fourth Verzio International Film Festival in Budapest, which showcased quite a few interesting flicks. Although I had ten lined up on my "to watch" list, I only made it to four.

The first film I attended was Between the Lines: India's Third Gender, about Hijras within Indian society. Hijras, a growing third gender, are previously men who get castrated to become this gender. What is unique about this particular gender is that they self-identify not as women or men, but simply as Hijras and are known for spiritual blessings or curses. Within Indian society, these individuals appear to be not only discriminated by somewhat accepted at the same time. Many of those within the film interviewed appeared to live very poverty-stricken lives, begging for money on a constant basis, selling their bodies to men for money, or dancing in clubs. Walking through the streets of Mumbai, it appeared the Hijras attracted stares of not only difference, but of disbelief and disgust. Despite these types of non-acceptance by the Indian society, they are heavily relied on--both for their supernatural powers and their bodies as objects for men--within Indian society. The film captures this sub-culture within India and reveal both the pains and joys of a minority class.

Two out of the three other films are worth mentioning. One of which is Exile Family Movie, a story of exiled Iranians throughout the globe. The film takes us through Arash T. Riahi's personal history of his own family, both nuclear and extended, who have either left Iran for political reasons or remained within the suppressive regime. The film begins in 1994 in Vien, Austria, where his nuclear family resides. Images and clips depict the pain his family members face as they are torn apart by politics, displaced across the globe, and separated by cultures. It has been years since the family has been together until they decide to meet in Mecca, in Saudi Arabia. Arash takes us through a personal journey filled with cultural differences, family connections, sorrow and ecstasy. This film encapsulates not only a personal journey, but reflects the notions of political subordination, determination, understanding, and most importantly love.

In Africa, the Democratic Republic of Congo, plagued by war, famine, disease witnesses the rise in Evangelical Christianity. Many of the Congolese are inflicted by deep poverty, AIDs, unimaginable hardships, looking for a way out of this life. Thanks to a handful pastors who claim they are God's messengers, preaching what the poor Congolese wish to hear, are not only creating a sense of false belief, but also a rise within their own bank accounts. The sad reality remains in the continuity of this practice, where individuals infected by AIDs and other detriments truly believe that through the prayers of these prophets to God, their ailing will heal. The film concludes with a very powerful scene, as one Congolese women lies frail and ill, flies circling her body, perhaps infected by cancer or AIDs, repeating that God will save her from her condition.

The wonders of international film festivals, such as these, is that it allows one to visualize the varying cultures, struggles, issues throughout the world. Simply reading a newspaper or an online article is indeed informational, but with this visualization, one is able to conceptualize the realities of the conditions of individuals. Taking a peek, even if only a minute one, into the lives of these people, we can move beyond the vague understanding we might initially possess.

two months

86,400 minutes, 1440 hours, 60 days, two months. Sitting at my laptop at 11:37 AM, it has hit me that two long months have passed since my arrival here in Budapest. In thinking of this time period past, too many things emerge within my thoughts--the first initial feeling of the city, my integration, my friendships, my travels. Outside of these thoughts, the one thing which tends to emerge from time to time is the fact of familiarity.

I wake up to the sun shining through the square windows each morning. I walk down Kiniszi Utca to either the Kinai Bufe or the burger joint for lunch or dinner. I stride over to the university where three big buildings stand--the main building, the sohaz building, the new building. I attend class each day, and see the same people within these classes. The topic changes of course, but when one simply observes this schedule without sound, its like looking at a set of the same pictures. I've become accustomed to my schedule, and have no problems. The people I have met are amazing.

My weekends consist of socializing, either at someone's flat, or at a local pub. I have grown attached to specifically three pubs--Szimpla, Klub Vittul, and Kuplung. They are all dive type bars, really Bohemian type environments with old stone walls surrounding the main area, grafitti on the walls, obscure designs floating around.

I have become used to the pace here. It is much slower in comparison to most cities of the States. Although the drivers on the road are absolutely mad, there still exists this sense of relaxation. I walk down the various Utca's of Budapest and even with this cold weather, people are sitting under the umbrella's covering the tables and sipping on their coffee or tea, intimately discussing something.

I have become familiar with the political situation here, somewhat. Weeks ago, there was the riots/protests against the government which tends to embody socialist ideas. Speaking to a local Hungarian man on the street, he mentioned the corruption of the government, the lack of even distribution amongst the citizens, and the vicscious cycle of poverty with no institutional aid. The man reiterated variuos times, "It hurts my soul to see this in my country."

Budapest is not simply the picturesque setting one sees upon arrival. It is not only the beautiful Danube with marvelous bridges lingering above. It is not only the fancy tourist streets such as Vaci Utca or Raday Utca. It is not only what lonely planet speaks of Budapest. Budapest has become a city with personal connections for me. Within only two months, I have grown attached to the life here. I am not saying that I'll drop everything and move here, or stay here rather, but to really understand what the city is about and feel part of it is a great thing.

About 86,400 minutes, 1440 hours, 60 days, two months remain.

The Balkans

Commemorating Magyarorszag's (Hungary) national holiday, all services were put to a halt. With a long weekend, I planned on heading down south to the former Yugoslavia, the Balkans. The night of the eighteenth, Thursday, Kevin, Bianca, and I met at Keleti palyaudvar (train station) to catch our train to Belgrade, Serbia--our first destination. The remains of the former Yugoslavia is now Serbia. Prior to the 1990's Yugoslavia's territory extended to what is now Macedonia, Bosnia, Croatia, Slovenia, and Montenegro. Kosovo, an autonomous region during that time still, remains under Serbian control.



After six hours or so, we arrived in Belgrade. My first thoughts of the Balkans was that the effects of war still remained--destroyed buildings, underdeveloped, decrepit. As we walked all throughout the city for hours upon hours, there were some areas which showned such signs, where other areas have been covered up with development. In one of the main streets of the city, two buildings lie side by side completely destroyed. Perhaps it was due to the bombs dropped by NATO during the 90s, perhaps just a decayed building. As the seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, the three of us remained wandering throughout this grey city. Several stops to the Museum of Ethnography and to the old Fort on a hill, viewing a breathtaking scene, we eventually headed back towards the bus station to catch a ten o'clock pm bus to Pristina, Kosovo--the most anticipated destination for me.



During middle school in the late 1990s, there were several students from Kosovo who arrived to our school. Their families were displaced due to the war between Kosovo and Serbia. At the time, what I knew of Kosovo was just some point on the map where there was conflict. The U.S., under Clinton, assisted Kosovo in defending themselves against Serbia and Milosevic. Never in my life did I actually think I would visit this site. Sitting on the bus was somewhat overwhelming for me, yet exciting. My seat was somewhere near the back, close to the last row. As I observed my surroundings, I somewhat laughed in my head. It was as if I was situated in some scene in a movie, or a made up scenario within one's mind. All around me were Kosovar Albanians, either trying to sleeping, or fully awake. Stares of interest pointed my way as I sat there, in silence, listening to the high pitched Madonna type Albanian singer through the intercom.

We made a quick stop in the middle of nowhere it seemed. Standing there in the pitch black, it triggered the memories of my travels in Vietnam just last year. During those grueling bus rides from South to North, countless pit-stops to a restaurant deserted by civilization. As I stood there, trying to look into the distance--fogged by the darkness--an old, black Mercedes-Benz came screetching into the graveled parking lot. Four young Kosovar Albanians exited the vehicle, like a scene from some gangster movie, only to greet me with warmth, exhalting "Welcome to the State of Kosovo!" An exchange of smiles and handshakes between us was all the interaction.



From my knowledge most fighting took place within this region during the Kosovo War. Like Belgrade, I expected a dilapidated, rundown city in Pristina. The city itself is the largest city in Kosovo with close to 500,00 inhabitants. The cold, drizzling rain greeted the three of us as we walked through the gates at four in the morning. Ten seconds later, with no actual place to go, we turned back around and slept in the bus station until about nine. My expectations were met as the sights of the buildings, cityscape, and other surroundings appeared to be those similar to a third world country. The visibility of an undeveloped location points to the realities of the region today. Stricken with racial/ethnic tension, political corruption, social and economic decay, underdeveloped is an understatement.

My plan for this trip was to speak to some locals of the area, to see what everyday life was like. Although many people do speak English here in Pristina, and in most other parts of Kosovo, they seem to keep the personal, the current political and social problems to themselves when dealing with foreigners--the very few who visit the region. With our travels to the Balkans, we really were not interested in the typical "see all the tourist spots", but rather, walk around as the locals do, shop at the market, sit at a coffee shop, and observe and take in what life in this region of tension is like.



We met one man, whose name now escapes me, who has returned to the city of his birth after twenty-five years. He moved to British Columbia a quarter decade ago due to unknown reasons. His story is an interesting one for me, mainly because it reminds me of the so many diasporic groups of Vietnamese in places like the U.S., France, Austrailia. I came into Kosovo with a very limited view on the atmosphere, the culture. I knew few foreigners came to visit; those who reside are NGO workers. This particular individual dived into the topics which I was most interested. He spoke of the ethnic tensions between the Serbs, the Kosovar Albanians, the Roma. His best friend during his days in Kosovo lives in a region where such ethnic tension is blatantly visible; he advises him not to come to this part of Pristina because death might ensue. He also highlighted the lack of any economic development. The rate of unemployment soars beyond the clouds. With no job, no income, people simply cannot move upward. The political group is apparently renown for its corruption. The money goes into who's pocket? The people or the elites? These tend to be the ongoing problems within Kosovo today.

As we departed ways, I gained a somewhat better understanding of the present social, economic and political situation in Kosovo. Looking around this dreary city kind of validified this man's words. Poverty and unemployment seemed to be an issue, and clearly through mass media, the ethnic tensions are obvious. As we moved on, touring the city by foot, we arrived to a few interesting places, one of which was an open air market. Compared to the markets of Budapest, this would be considered primitive. The products were obviously knockoffs--tons of clothes which resembled the knockoffs in South-East Asia, bootleg CDs and DVDs. I really enjoy these types of markets mainly because it is very local and possesses a cultural feel to it. Yet at the same time, I cannot be blinded by my own personal enjoyment as the ones selling are working hard for every cent. Many of these vendors were extremely friendly to us--inquiring our roots and nationality and what we were doing here--some of which asked us to take their picture.



As the market faded into the distance, we came across a building which was quite distinct from all other buildings erected. Glass, reflective windows, perhaps ten to twenty stories high, and gated with security. Kosovo has been U.N. adminstered since the late 1990s, and I was standing right in front of this global governance organization's building. On the gates of the U.N. building read a large sign in red text, "We Are All Missing Them", referring to those who lost their lives in dark times of war just one decade ago. The faces of individuals who I only know through images hang on the fence. Faded by time, some photos are nearly unrecognizable. As I stood there for awhile, examining these images, I sense the pain and the sympathy for these people, for their familes. The sad reality of war.



As our journey continued through the winding, narrow roads of Pristina, I observed the lack of investment, the lack of commitment in development of this city. Throughout the entire metropolis, many buildings tower, half finished, appearing to be a forgotten project. Development of edifices tends not to develop the society or economy. With this constant visibility of constructions, I began to think that development planning is heading in the wrong direction in Kosovo. Structures do not bring income, do not bring jobs, do not develop much when they are unfinished, and more importantly do not contribute to the human development. From my travels thus far, Kosovo appears to be one of the poorest regions within Europe. The 2 Euro meal for the three of us gives evidence of the feeble economy. I really do not know what is being done in this State in terms of development, but even under U.N. administering, there seems not to be much upward movement.



Wandering for a few more hours, we eventually decided to head back to the bus station to catch our train to Sarajevo, Bosnia. As we walked in the general direction, we were somewhat lost. I asked a women for directions to the bus station, and luckily for us she was heading there as well. I took this opportunity to ask her more about Pristina, and Kosovo in general. She mentioned her sadness and demoralization when it came to the present and future of Kosovo. The post-war period has brought an end to the manifest oppresion by Serbia, but what remains are countless issues which are unresolved. She works for a bank, which gave her the opporunity to train in two other European countries. What really amazed her were how developed these other countries are; Switzerland and Austria respectively. The comparsions she drew between Kosovo and these states, which I view as incomprable, tend to be a widespread view amongst those residing here. When a Kosovar Albanian watches Western films and witnesses this highly developed, technologized society, how can they not compare? Their reality is a harsh, cruel, scrapping environment. As this woman said to me, "It will be years before Kosovo reaches such a stage."



I wished I had more time in Kosovo, perhaps to see a different city, to speak to some NGOs, to understand the locality, but unfortunately, time did not permit. We jumped onto another night bus, which would bring us to Sarajevo, Bosnia--another destination rich in history.

Bosnia, like Kosovo, faced war in the early to mid 1990s. Conflicts between Bosniaks, Croats, and Serbs plagued the country for three years, where genocide was a reality--mass rapings, ethnic cleansing, resulting in over 100,000 deaths. Apparently, there are still many landmines up in the mountains. Arriving in Sarajevo and seeing the views of the city, there is much contrast between the war-torn Kosovo. The infrastructure of this city appeared to be much more developed--physically and economically. The individuals living here, through mere observations differed greatly in their everyday life than that of the Kosovar Albanians. Well-dressed, high-class dining, frequenting fancy coffee shops, the Bosniaks seem not to face the same struggles as their neighbors westward. Of course, with every society, there are social, economic and political problems, but when comparing one country within the Balkans to another, the association is justifiable.



Tired from walking around the previous day, we checked into a hostel. Dropping off our goods, we decided to explore our surroundings. The city itself is really beautiful, especially the old town part. Walking through these brick roads, I felt as if I were passing through a 19th century city. The constructions still resemble such a time period, as do the businesses and everyday life of these individuals--the aura captivated such an impression. We simply walked, drank coffee, climbed up and down hills, examining the architecture, landscape and people. One of the very interesting things about Sarajevo was the diversity of religion. Predominantly Muslim, there are also synagogues and churches established. The strange coexistence of these conflicting religions in Sarajevo intrigued me greatly. Within other parts of the world, such a coexistence is impossible--especially in what is present day Israel. One can witness such coexistence in parts of the U.S., but the difference here is that within such a small proximity, the contact between these various religions is to a greater extent. There appeared to be no religious conflict as individuals went on with their everday life, interacting with one another.



Kevin and I ate at a Gyros plate, each purchasing a Cevati sandwich, a typical Bosnian dish--Bianca sat salvating, refusing to eat. Following our meal, the three of us had a drink at Guiness Pub, where American football illuminated the widescreen television--Detroit Lions versus Tampa Bay Bucs. American culture has even reached the depths of the Balkans it seems. Fatigued by lack of sleep, and constant travel on night buses, we entered complete comfort in our warm, homely hostel room. The minute I rested my head onto the pillow, I feel into a deep slumber.

As the sun rose and the three of us headed towards the train station, our Balkans tour had come to an end. On the train, we ran into Harry and Joe, two other Corvinus exchange students. After twelve hours, we arrived back in Budapest, starving due to lack of food. We all headed to Kinai Bufe (Chinese fast food restaurant) for a delicious dinner, where we discussed the sights and sounds we had just witnessed.

Trần, Qúy-Hạc

Diaspora, Acculturation, and Reality.

Diaspora
Running late, as the Vietnamese do, I jumped onto the #173 bus to meet my friend Hà at the last and final stop of the route to enter what is known as the "Asia Center." Both excitement and curiosity overcame me as I would be entering something familiar. Hà, mentioning to me of the Asia center, brought up various thoughts in my head. One of which was the development of an Asian community here in such a homogenous society. Diaspora is seen everywhere, especially within countries like France, Britain, or the United States. But being a child of Vietnamese refugees, Vietnamese Diaspora intrigues me most. Few weeks prior, I ventured off and visited the "Four Tigers Asian Market" with a few of my friends. That experience showed me only one aspect of the Vietnamese Diaspora here in Budapest.



Hà arrived a few minutes after I and everyone else dispersed off the bus. From a distance, I could see this massive, dome-like structure which was the Asia Center. The both of us walked towards it in the gushing winds of autumn in Budapest; contrary to the climate in Việt Nam. I asked her when the building was constructed, to which she replied five or so years ago; not that very long ago. The establishment or even recognition of an Asian and Southeast Asian community here in Budapest has only been a recent phenomenon. As we entered the center, it somewhat reminded me of Saì Gòn Square, the newly enhanced one. Inside where a bunch of clothing, perfume, and gift shops run by mostly Vietnamese or Chinese immigrants. What I really wanted was a bowl of phở. My expectation in comparison to that of the "Four Tigers Market" was much higher. 600 forint later, I received a relatively small bowl of phở tái. It satisfied me mainly because I have not had any phở in over a month and a half. We walked around for a few hours, talked, had some gelato and I headed back to the dorms.



Many of these Vietnamese I saw at the Asia Center seemed at a higher socio-economic status than that of those in Four Tigers market. According to Hà, most of these vendors purchase the goods from those at the Four Tigers market wholesale and sell them for a little higher price. Vietnamese people seemed to be the dominant, or rather, the majority of the vendors here. Many of the customers were the Magyar population. Within Diaspora, there is this struggle of integration, or acculturation. Even being in the States, I witness so many struggles and eases of integration into society. What springs from the lack of integration is often times discrimination, racism. Walking on the streets of Budapest, it seems as if the Magyar place themselves above other ethnic minorities. Walking through the Asia Center, the two groups seemed to interact quite well with one another. Within that point in time, my view of the Vietnamese Diaspora within this city and country was that of inequity, economically, like that of the Gypsies.



Today, running only three minutes late; an improvement from the previous day, I met Hà and a few of her friends -- Nhung and Khánh -- at the Astoria red-line metro. We were going to see an exhibit on WC -- toilets -- at this exhibition hall near Mammut shopping center. There four other friends of hers -- Hiếu, Hại, Qùynh, and Dũng-- were waiting for us. As we entered there was also a photo exhibit on Chicago; nothing new to me. The WC exhibit was quite interesting; a mixture of art and history. Most of the art displayed was going for quite a high price of over 100,000 HUF. After thirty minutes, the group of us entered Mammut shopping center for a drink. We gulped down our ice teas, ginger ales, and sinh tó's and headed over to Dũng's home.



As we arrived I was somewhat in awe at the size of his family's home. It was magnificent and beautiful -- mansion like. An indoor swimming pool, an elevator, two balconies, and four stories. My previous perception of the Vietnamese here in Budapest was smashed to pieces as I realized that the Vietnamese here are simply not vendors but are also successful. Perhaps I was just being naive when I thought that all Vietnamese in Hungary were in the lower level of the socio-economic ladder. As in any country, there will be a disparity in income, class, and status. Within the States, amongst the Vietnamese diaspora population, there are filthy rich and those that are scrapping for money. But what I find perhaps a difference between the Diaspora in Budapest and that of the U.S., in socio-economic terms, is that of refuge and starting off on the same foot. Here in Budapest, during the 1980's, while the country was still under Soviet control, many Vietnamese from the North arrived due to politics. They remained and perhaps had some leverage in success in terms of economics. Those who arrived later did not have those same possibilities. This is also the case in the U.S., with refugees being able to acculturate into society much easier than that of later immigrants who came, but the only difference between the earlier Diaspora groups was that one was already integrating within politics and the other had to start from the bottom up. This is only my assumption and guess of course.



As the night went on, Dũng's family generously offered all of us dinner. How wonderful, my actual first Vietnamese dinner in over a month and a half. Bún chả, nem rán, nộm, and canh chua; a fullilling and full meal. Dũng's family had some type of dinner party with a very large group of Vietnamese-Hungarians over. It somewhat reminded me of the dinner parties I used to attend back when I was young. There were Vietnamese adults sitting at the dinner table, speaking loudly as ever, the karaoke machine blasting Vietnamese tunes, the group of youth sitting in the bedroom playing PS2, and us playing card games in one room. I am half away across the world, and I feel the same culture of Vietnamese Diaspora as I do when I am at home. Outside of economic differences in Vietnamese Diaspora, the social and cultural elements tend to be exactly the same as in the States. Overall the night was great and I enjoyed my time a lot.



Acculturation
As I said my goodbyes to Hà, I slowly walked to the bus stop, which would bring me back to the university. It was nearing five in the afternoon, just two hours before Bianca's dinner party. She invited Roldan, Kevin, Elena, Caroline, and I to share her delicious cooking. It was some sort of Hungarian Goulash, which was not exactly Goulash -- according to Bianca herself. Within the stew, there were vegetables and sausages, not meat (Bianca says that sausages are not meat). After two servings and two rolls of bread, I no longer could suck in my stomach to hide the blub. We all sat there talking and playing some games -- Uno and Bluff -- and began to drink a little, only one beer for me. As we stepped outside of Bianca and Sebastian's flat, this one really mean Hungarian woman stared and screamed swear words at us. In a way I suppose both this Hungarian dinner and the negative words projected at us reflects our own personal integration within this society; being a foreigner. To be here but to not fully be accepted; an important factor in acculturation within any society.



Following the dinner get-together, we headed to this really local Hungarian bar where we were the only foreigners. Arany Aszok, a Hungarian brewed beer was only 280 forint, but the Hungarian bartender kept on giving us 20 forint short each time. This of course is not a custom of Hungarian culture. Maybe it is more in Việt Nam where the vendors will give you incorrect change and you'd just have to accept that; being ripped off. The night was edging on and Roldan and I were mighty tired. We said goodbye to the rest of the crew and jumped on the night bus back to the dorms. Goodnight long day.



Acculturation within Hungarian society for me is much harder than that of into Vietnamese society. I now feel how it was for those who I studied with just last year who were not of Vietnamese descent. There is that border between you and the rest of society. The possibility of obtaining a taste of what it is like by frequenting pubs or eating the food is seen, but a full acculturation, integration into such a society takes many years of learning and adaptation. In just one and a half months here, I feel that I have become aware of some of the customs and cultures, but to only a certain extent. Two and a half months remain and who knows how much more I will learn. I do enjoy Hungary and the culture that I have been exposed to -- much different than that of both Việt Nam and of the States.



Reality
I walk several times to various stops on the blue-line metro. In each of these subways, there are always homeless people trying to remain warm during the changing seasons. It is now in the early stages of autumn and the weather is becoming much colder during the days and even colder during the nights. I see the same people, lying on the cardboard sheets, wrapped in the worn out sweaters, sleeping. They shake their cups, clinking with little change, as the commuters pass by in their daily routine. These people live in a life where there appears to be no upward mobility. I often wonder as I pass these individuals if there are any types of social service programs which help them. In the States, there are many homeless shelters where the homeless are able to sleep in a big room with a bed, pillow, and blanket and a free plate of food. Although these services exist within the U.S. there is still a high visibility of homelessness throughout the city of Chicago.


(google image)

Homelessness of course has countless roots -- inheritance (born into poverty), job loss, lack of education and inability to find work, amongst others. I have yet to speak to any of the homeless here in Budapest as my Hungarian language skills are poor as can be. As I pass them and sometimes put a few forint coins in their cup, I am filled with a dozen thoughts. The forint I put in their cups may be used for food, water, or for alcohol, cigarettes. But I seldom ever judge those who are homeless because their circumstance cannot be imagined by me. Aside from these thoughts, thoughts of inequalities in society and throughout the world emerge. I feel so uneasy that such a reality is existent. I can understand how they might have reached this point to succumb to begging for money, but I cannot fathom why this happens and why there is not more focus on elevating these individuals from their current status.


(google image)

Walking past the sidewalk across the street from the Main Building at Corvinus, homeless men are lined up against the wall, lying, wrapped up in their warm blankets, sleeping like those in the subway stations. In the morning I pass them, in the evening they still remain there. A life where one lives on the streets, inhabiting this little corner of the world for who knows how long. I sympathize with them. I feel that all individuals should be given the opportunity to progress. Society, it tends to be, has forgotten about these people. They are invisible, yet visible. Too much trouble, too much work to help these people perhaps; they remain stuck, cornered in such a reality. In my Human Development in Transition Economies class, we discussed poverty and its impact to human development of a society, especially one that is in transition. This element creates a sense of dualism where one group succeeds and the other remains at the bottom. The continuance of such a system stagnates a society's human development, which in turn negatively effects the nation as a whole. I feel that human development, especially through the medium of social service work, really tackles many of the main problems within society. Working with the poverty, eradicating homelessness should be taken into consideration and emphasized greatly. A reality without such problems would progress the world.

Trần, Qúy-Hạc.

hai mươi hai.

This is the second year where I celebrated my birthday abroad; last year was in Việt Nam. Having a birthday overseas is really special and exciting because you really do not know what to expect. Although it would have been great to have spent it with family, my twenty-second here in Budapest was still spectacular.

The dorm gang went to dinner at Pink Cadillac, this Italian place on Ráday Útca, near our dormitory. I ordered a Dreher beer and Risotto d'Occa -- goose liver, cheese, and rice. For the past couple of times eating at this restaurant, I have ordered risotto. Probably not as tasty as risotto in Italia, it still satisfied my stomach. After chit-chatting away, the clock hit quarter to ten, fifteen minutes before my meeting at Szimpla, a really bohemian type pub here in Budapest, with who knows how many Erasmus students.

Earlier that day, I texted messaged everyone I had on my contact list in my cell phone to meet at around ten at night for my birthday. As I arrived, there were about ten to fifteen people. As the night grew on, more and more started to emerge. It was really great to see everyone come out and wish me a happy birthday. My friend Bianca presented me with a gift wrapped in hot Hungarian women wrapping paper, inside two potato chip bags --paprika flavour and onion flavour. Others presented me with birthday shots and sors.

Following these generous gifts, there was spillage onto the table, into a glass, cup, and tea plate. My friends and I arrived back to the dorms later that night. I was sound asleep by one in the morning and the destruction began. I awoke at eleven the following morning, with half shaved eyebrows, shaved legs, and drawings over my body. O what fun. These are how birthdays are supposed to be as they say.

My twenty-second was a memorable one, with great company in a beautiful city. Who knows where I will be when I turn twenty-three.

Until next time.

Trần, Qúy Hạc

Slovensko

The previous night, I stayed up not sleeping one bit watching The Rebel, a Vietnamese American film about the colonization of Viet Nam by the French. It is a very interesting film, action packed, but lacking in the "acting" area. Johnny Tri Nguyen, I would have to say, has the worst pronunciation of Vietnamese I have ever heard in my life. Despite the terrible acting on his and Dustin Nguyen's part, I would have to say the film was quite interesting as it underlined and highlighted a lot of issues which the Southern Vietnamese people fought against.

The film ended at about 3.45 in the morning, so I decided to just stay online and google and youtube a few things here and there. Our train to Bratislava, Slovakia departed at 5.50 AM, so I figured there was no point in sleeping for an hour; there was no way I'd want to be late. Kevin and I left the dorms at 5:10 and waited for the metro, which seemed like forever. It was getting really close as the clock hit 5:40 and we were two stops away. Getting out of the train, we ran as fast as possible to the train stop where Bianca and Caroline were waiting. We arrived on time, right on time as the train was leaving the station. We missed our train to Bratislava.

The next train was at 9:50 AM, four hours later. What to do this early? Sleep? No. We walked around for an hour and eventually ended up in McDonald's for breakfast. I had this McSomething, which tasted like artificial food; garbage. We boarded the train and I fell immediately asleep.

We arrived in Bratislava at around noon. I felt lost in this city, even though it was tiny with a population of 450,000. Soon enough I realized that the capital of Slovensko was actually quite navigate-able. The four of us decided to eat lunch at this cafe. I had a really tasty dish--roasted goose, crepes, breading, and red cabbage. It might sound like some medieval meal, but it was delicious. Afterwards we went to the castle and essentially walked around the entire city three times snapping away on our cameras. Everything seemed to be closed in the largest city of Slovensko, so there was absolutely no window shopping. A few stands were open and I purchased a Slovensko t-shirt.

The city, although small, was very interesting. The city centre appeared to be the gathering place for its inhabitants. Narrow brick, winding, hilly roads, colourful old buildings, and friendly people. What I found particular about this city was that the youth seemed to have disappeared. We walked around for hours upon hours, but seldom ran into any people our age, besides a group of American students touring the city. As the four of us were waiting at the train station for our ride back, a huge group of Slovak youths suddenly emerged. It seemed as if they were on some weekend religious trip as there were two nuns with the group. It makes sense now, being such a religious nation, probably very conservative, the children are either locked up in the house to be protected from the social evils which exist outside or are on religious camps for the weekend.

Overall Bratislava was a relaxing trip outside of Budapest. The food is good, the people are friendly, and the air clean. Considering I have seen everything within seven hours, I would probably say I would not return to this city in the near future. But I do advise those of who are interested in a break from their hectic lives to visit this area. Of course, it is not simply a little exotic area to release all one's worries; there are most definitely social issues that exist. Quite invisible within the city, most likely visible in the countryside. If I do return to Slovensko, this is where I wish to visit.

tran.quy.hac

A bit of motherland culture in Budapest.

As of late, I have been hanging out with a lot of internationals from all over the globe. It has been very fun and quite interesting learning from them with such different backgrounds. Tonight was a little different though. Last week I met a girl, Ha, in the ISC computer lab whom I believed to be Vietnamese. After speaking Vietnamese to her, my doubts erased. She invited me to this Vietnamese student social event to which I accepted.

I met Ha at Kalvin Ter tonight and we headed to the end of the line. The event was held at this hotel, or should I say khach san? As I entered the room it felt as if I was in Viet Nam again with over one hundred Vietnamese students--both living here and from Viet Nam. I received the curious stares like I did in Viet Nam, probably because I look Korean. My hope of looking more Vietnamese with my “fu man chu” mustache apparently is not working. The activities included Karaoke, dancing, and eating. It was nice having some Vietnamese food again--banh khuc, banh bao, banh phong tom. At first, I would have to say I felt a little out of place, but as I started speaking to them more, in my now broken Vietnamese, it got better. I followed Ha's group of friends to a karaoke room where we sang a lot of American oldies and few Vietnamese songs. I sang "Hotel California", "As Long As You Love Me", and part of a Vietnamese song I forget the name of. Afterwards, we went upstairs to where the festivities were being held and danced a little to some American hip-hop and some European electronica. I would have to say I enjoyed the former over the latter.

Ha and her boyfriend drove me back to Kalvin Ter which ended my night. Having an itty-bitty taste of the motherland culture here in Budapest is nice. I hope to practice my Vietnamese and hang out with them again while I am here in Budapest. Who knew, an American-born Viet Kieu would actually be hanging out with a bunch of Vietnamese international students in Budapest. Tomorrow I head to Bratislava, Slovakia for a day trip. It should be fun.

Until next time,

Tran, Quy-Hac

Croatia

This past weekend, a few of us international students decided to go south of Budapest to Zagreb, Croatia. Although I am not sick of Budapest yet, it was a nice break from the life here. We jumped on a train departing at 8:05 AM. Six hours later we arrived in a city I have much wanted to see for a long time. We had nine in our group--Me, Roldan, Kevin, Anais, Isa, Gianluca, Giovanni, Laura, and Balmeet. Once we arrived to Zagreb, we walked around the really small, clean, quaint city of one million.




After eating cevap, an oily fried bread with fried sausages and onions, we began the hostel hunt. Three hostels and an hour later, we arrived at Hostel Lika. We all threw our things down and headed out to explore the city. The main church was being reconstructed, but was beautiful nonetheless. City Centre appeared to be the main hotspot amongst both tourists and locals. A big fountain and statue lie in the middle of the centre. We all went to a restaurant close by where I devoured a delicious risotto frutti de mare. Following dinner, we all headed towards the bar area for a few drinks. The night ended at around midnight.





The next day, Gialucca, Giovanni, Balmeet, and I decided to head to Petrcane, a city near Zadar. The bus was a four hour ride. From Zadar to Petrcane, a thirty minute ride. As I stepped off the bus to Petrcane, the deep crystal blue waters took my breath away. The Adriatic Sea was the name of the sea which we would later all swim in. This sea was much different than the waters of Vietnam, and many other types of beaches around the world. It lacked sand and in place were rocks, some of which cut up our feet. Despite this particularity, the swim and view was amazing.

At Petrcane, the four of us met up with some other Corvinus students--Nora, Rafael, Michilaus, and Mafalda. According to their friend Cleveland, a guy from Wales, there was going to be a huge music festival at this beach side bar. Unfortunately, it was really not a music festival, but rather just one DJ spinning some electronica jams. But with good company, it made the night very enjoyable. I also met a really cool Croatian girl at the party. I've noticed that during my time here, the Croatian people are much more friendly than that of Budapest. According to a few, English is much more common in schools, and therefore their relations towards foreigners is much easier than that of the Hungarians. We ended the night on the outdoor beds of the bar.




The next morning was somewhat crazy as there was not one bus from Petrcane to Zadar. Luckily, Balmeet and Giovanni with an hours worth of putting up their thumbs, we hitched a ride with a really cool couple from Holland. I was pretty much sleeping on the ride so did not get to really get to know them. As we arrived in Zadar, we caught a bus to Zagreb. Four and a half hours--perfect time for sleeping. The four of us arrived back in Zagreb at around two in the afternoon. We grabbed some food at the same cevap restaurant as before and ate some gelato for dessert. The train back to Budapest, we believed, was scheduled at 5 PM. We arrived early at 4:10, and learned that the train actually left at 5 AM, and not 5 PM, and that we have also just missed the last train back to Budapest that day, ten minutes prior. Unfortunate for us and for the other five, we all had to stay in Zagreb for another twelve hours.



I had a brilliant idea as I was consumed with semi-anger of missing the bus. I thought about a nice way to suppress these ill-feelings as I remembered the "Free Hug" campaign. The four of us found some white cardboard box in the trash can, ripped it into a square and wrote "FREE HUGS" with black permanant marker. We left the train station with this sign hovering over our heads and with us shouting "free hugs!!!" It was brilliant.



We met the others across the street from the train station. While in the nice little park, mainly Balmeet was holding up the sign as locals and visitors passed by. We got a few hugs at first, but as the night went on, we reached around 200; I had hug 100. Overall, even though we missed our train back to Budapest, I felt that we used the time wisely--getting to know the locals through the mini "Free Hugs" campaign, understanding the life in Zagreb, and pushing our own limits by sleeping at the train station over night.



Zagreb is a city of one million, and is relatively small in size. In two days, I cannot fully judge what type of city it is, whether or not it is boring or fun, but the time I did spend here, I could say I extremely enjoyed the experience, especially getting to know the locals. Most of those we spoke to and even those who glanced at us, I felt were very curious about where we were all from and what we were all doing in their city. To meet someone just once and understand each other despite all the cultural differences is a really beautiful thing to see. Traveling allows such wonders to happen.



tran.quy.hac