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

District VIII

(bbc news image)

Our sociology class: The New European Underclass took a field trip yesterday to district eight. The 8th district is just west of where our university is situated, and is known to be the poorer area of Budapest, housing most of the underclass and ethnic minorities, particularly the Gypsies, or Roma. I was quite excited about taking a few hours out of my busy academic life to see a different side of this city.

Before I dive into the discussion of living conditions of these inhabitants, the actually people who are in this underclass needs an introduction. Essentially, the Gypsy population is considered an ethnic minority within Budapest, and many other European cities. Another name for these people is Roma. Most of the Gypsies within Budapest are viewed and labeled as an underclass, but what was most interesting was the fact that not all of them view themselves as Gypsies. Out of one hundred, roughly thirty self-identify with this ethnic group. Unlike the States where race is a profound issue, here in Budapest racial lines are not very prominent, but the issue that must be highlighted is the social lines. They are not viewed as second class citizens because they are Gypsies, but rather their actions or inactions. But it is hard to really conceive which comes first, class or race.


(Radio C image)

Another intersting aspect of the Gypsies in Budapest is that of their music. On the trip, we visited a Gypsy radio station, "Radio C" 88.8 FM. What I found interesting is that these ethnic, social minorities are not left in the dust, but do have representation through the media, even if it is not as strong as the Magyar population. The director of the Gypsy Radio Station, a successful Gypsy mentioned that through the radio many issues are addressed to the general public. Sixty percent of the radio station is focused on speech, which particularly magnifies the social, cultural, and political situations of the Gypsy population. This tool--media--can do both wonders and horrors. As seen in the States, media has been highly criticized for broadcasting sometimes false, mostly bias information to the general audience. But with the Gypsy Radio station, I feel that the minority voice now can be heard.


(Gypsy musicians at the Metro station)

Compared to the U.S. the lower class communities here are more integrative, meaning both poor and middle class live in the same neighborhoods. Although this might be the case, I feel not many wealthy or middle class Hungarians actually live in the 8th district. My professor, in the beginning of the tour, mentioned to us that the actual architecture of the homes point to the inequality between the inhabitants. For example, the housing on floor one has much higher ceilings, more adequate living space, and fancier designs than floor two and up. Such can be seen in the image below.



Looking at the image above, one might assume that this home actually looks like a million dollar home, but of course, we cannot judge the conditions of anything by the outside. As we walked through the eigth district, we actually entered a few homes and spoke to a few Gypsies who lived there. As I observed my surroundings, I was quite shocked at the difference of these flats from the flats of the foreign friends I have made here in Budapest. The walls were somewhat filthy, dirty, rusty, and decaying. There seems to be no effort of reconstruction of these homes. Most of these places were from the 19th century, and from then until now, have had no real fixing. What is typical about the homes in Budapest--the more affluent areas within the city--is that there is open air within the building, with a four to five story square shaped balcony surrounding the open air. But within the homes of the 8th district, the balconies are normally "U" shaped, with garbage and other disposables piling up where that fourth balcony should be.



The problem not only lies with in the lack of reconstruction of these bulidings, but also the notion of gentrification. This is not special only to Budapest, but with every big city. Even in Chicago, during my freshman year course, we discussed and learned about this process. Development of new buildings in poorer areas, the hike of rent, forcing the underclass out. A spot which I sometimes frequent in Chicago--Wicker Park--has been completely transformed within the past ten to fifteen years. Now it is a spot for yuppies to go have fun on a Friday night. In the 8th district, there are small signs of gentrification, where new colourful buildings are being constructed side by side with these decaying buildings. It is an attempt to homogenize the population of the middle to upper class, and create a more beautiful city. It may seem though that I am very critical of gentrification, but I do realize that there are positive things with the process. But the effects are so large to not ignore. With this homogenisation, it pushes out the poor, both Magyar (Hungarian) and the Gypsy population. In turn, the concentration of Gypsies community completely becomes fragmented. With any ethnic minority population, a community is perhaps one of the most important factors in maintaining the culture and sense of identity. With gentrification, the erosion of community among the Gypsy is a reality.



We ended the day with a "langos" snack at a small market in the area. My professor stated this is the cheapest Hungarian Market all throughout Budapest. Walking through this market I felt that was much more local than the Central Market right next to the Danube. The prices are far lower and the foods and products are targeted not for the frequent tourist but the local citizen of this city. But the difference between this market and that of the Central Market is that it is by far less developed. This market is an open air market as opposed to indoor. After eating a greasty, garlic-y "langos" and a fresh, sweet peach, we headed back to our little bubbles in District V.



Tran Quy Hac.

Decrepit

The market is known as Bốn Con Hộ, or Four Tigers. It houses the businesses, street food stalls, and other types of vending options of the Asian people living here. In Budapest, the population of Far East Asian immigrants does not exceed twenty thousand—a very compact number. As I entered this area, my expectations were not met by any means. Through a few blog posts I have read previously, the image of this Asian area somewhat paralleled those markets of Chợ Bến Thành in Sài Gòn. But what I was greeted with was a very dilapidated, dumpster like area. Trash filled the small alleyway paths, the smell of garbage and urine was so profound that I had to hold my breath. It is a very particular area in a city known for its beautiful architecture, scenery, and cleanliness.

I attempted to take a few pictures, but was stopped by what seemed to be security guards—individuals who appeared to be ethnic minorities themselves. The number of the majority Hungarians in this area was close to zero. Walking through these narrow, grimy passageways all I could think about was how distinct and different the Asian area was from the other parts of what I have seen in Budapest. Such disparity simply points to the economic problems minorities face in this country, or rather this city. I spoke to a few Vietnamese people in the market and asked them about their lives, when they arrived in Budapest. Many of those to whom I spoke stated they’ve been here since the nineties. Most of their income comes from the products they sell. I found what they cited to me to be quite interesting. In Việt Nam, there are individuals who are selling phở or fake Armani pants to tourists or even locals as a means of income, but these people were simply doing the same as in Việt Nam. Normally, immigration or refuge to another country during the nineties constituted a sense of economic migration, where individuals sought more opportunities to gain higher capital. Here in Budapest, it seemed as a complete replica.

Perhaps Vietnamese people and other South East/East Asian folks possessed false dreams. Many people believe arriving to a country with a stronger economy translates to a higher chance to make money. But this may not always be the case. Here in Budapest, the cost of living is much higher than that of Sài Gòn or Hà Nội. Selling these products as they do in Việt Nam really does not bring them that higher capital even if they inflate the prices 100% compared to the prices back at home. To be in a third world country for six months, I became accustomed to what Westerners would regard as decrepit, dirty, etc. Walking through Chợ Bốn Con Hộ, this sense of normality of decrepit was suddenly challenged as the sights and sounds which lay in front of my eyes magnifying the realities of how poorly the conditions of South East Asians were here in Budapest. In the near future, I will return to this area and observe in finer detail.

Trần Qúy Hạc

The man with red roses.

One in the morning, I sit in a pub with a few friends, sitting back with a beer, laughing the night away. As I gaze around my surroundings, I see other international students—drinking, enjoying their youth. Half way into my watch, I see an old man, clothed in worn out, ripped attire. He is perhaps seventy five to eighty years old. In one hand he holds a bundle of roses, in the other, he holds a single rose—trying to sell this piece of nature to individuals who are completely separated from him in so many ways—class, economics, etc. Such a sight brings a sudden halt to my pleasurable night.

Thoughts rush through my head, which in a good way brings me back to reality. Being in Viet Nam the previous year, I saw this day in and day out; unable to really stray away from such inequities, but here in Budapest I have begun to live life with no worries, in luxury somewhat. I had a short discussion with one of my professors last school year as I mentioned my reasons for going to Budapest. I brought up that although the city may not compare to the inequalities of cities within Latin America or South East Asia, there are still poverty issues and other social problems that exist—for Budapest is in fact in Eastern Europe, a region where development is occurring. She said that if I really want to witness such issues, then I must really search deeply for them. Seeing that man with the red rose reminded me of my desires and aspirations here in Budapest—to observe and understand the realities of those less fortunate.

The old man walked around the pub for close to ten minutes, unsuccessfully selling his bundle of roses, besides a few. Vending these roses though, I feel, is somewhat of a temporary solution for his toils. It is a temporary solution which will probably give him food that night, or that week. But long term, selling roses does not lift him up from this socio-economic situation. Purchasing him a rose might do some good in the short term, but these problems of poverty are so deep rooted that simply buying a rose from the man will not change anything, but may even contribute to stagnation. Such thoughts reminded me of a heated argument I had with my cousin within the first weeks of Việt Nam, as we sat eating our oily Vietnamese food on the streets of Sài Gòn. My cousin’s remarks paralleled the aforementioned explanations. Despite this reality, I feel that being a student here in Budapest and in Việt Nam the previous year, I am unable to really create any concrete change to elevate these people from their socio-economic status, and by purchasing a rose from the man does more good than none.

Trần Qúy Hạc.

Difference and acceptance.

I enjoy social issues. What intrigues me much in regards to this topic of discussion is perhaps the issue of race and ethnicity. Being a minority in the States, this matter is obviously relevant. But now being in Eastern Europe, I often think about my identity within a completely different culture, world. Walking through the streets of Budapest, I receive more stares from the locals than I do in the States. Meeting people is difficult—even when I do meet individuals, I feel as if a special treatment is given; perhaps based on my own ignorance. What goes through their mind, I cannot fathom. Perhaps it is simply the fact of seeing a person who looks so much different walking around the streets. Perhaps there is negative or even positive judgment. But what does this matter?

Tonight I had a very interesting, meaningful conversation with a friend. Him, being a Venezuelan studying in the States some nine years back, he expressed his experiences being in very uncomfortable situations, where complete regard towards him was non-existent. Often times, he was judged based on his political beliefs, his religious views, and possibly his race. He mentioned to me a very interesting point, perhaps even a new one to me. Often times, in the States, when I am glared at, treated differently, etc… I exert anger, hostility, misunderstanding, and perhaps even ignorance on my part. But what my friend stated reflected the response to such prejudices. Everywhere we go—my friend to Viet Nam, the States, Hungary; me to Venezuela, Sudan, New Zealand—discrimination is present, but how we respond to it is much more important. To feel anger and hatred simply does nothing, except replicate the feelings pushed towards us. To deal with such issues in an understanding way, we are able to really conceptualize why such hostilities are present. To understand their ignorance and learn from it is far more beneficial than to simply create a sense of hate.

Being a minority possibly everywhere where I go, and feeling a sense of discrimination wherever I am at, I often think about the minorities here in Budapest and Hungary in general. A brief discussion of Gypsies arose during class discussions today. They are often viewed as lazy, creating their own social problems due to not taking advantage of the opportunities given to them. But to view them in this light simply reiterates the notion of ascribing ethnocentric meaning to society—creating a hierarchal ladder of individuals. Comparable to my own experience and to my friend’s, this theory, or viewpoint translates the idea of cultural understanding or there lack of. We must look at not the reasons why people are different based in relation to each other, but simply through the lens of precedent perhaps, or rather history. We all are different than one another not simply because of the constitutive other, but perhaps because of our environmental situations. I am different than a Hungarian because I experienced a Vietnamese-American culture; them a Hungarian one. In the States, I am a minority, and the racial discrimination towards minorities is profound, but to feel hostile and become enraged by this leads to somewhat of a confirmation or even acceptance of the circumstance. To return to the discussion of the minorities of Hungary, we are able to really understand the reasons why people who fall into this category are viewed as they are—partly ignorance, partly comparisons to self.

Simply put, we all are minorities in one way or another, but to view it negatively; we lose the opportunity to learn from our experiences. We each learn from our own given situation. However bad it may seem, some positive will eventually arise. Yet this does not translate to tolerance.

Until later.

Tran.quy.hac

Being an International.

My previous study abroad experience was a muchmore personal experience rather than an academic. Rediscovering my roots and understanding the lives of the Vietnamese constituted my entire trip to Viet Nam. But with this trip to Budapest, Hungary, there are varying degrees of differences.

There is esentially no program, simply a director here at Corvinus who assists us when in need. That makes it a lot less structured as far as being a student. We are in control of our own schedule, our activities and our academia. But perhaps the most interesting aspect is that of being only a fraction of the international student population here. There are so many people from various backgrounds.

My roomate is named Roldan, an international student from Venezuela. My neighors are both from Hong Kong. Thus far, the Depaul group--all three of us--and our roomates have integrated quite well--somewhat of a "salad bowl" as the term goes in the States. the wonder of this and other situations such similar is that through simple conversation, a whole new door opens up to us. In the past twenty four hours, I have learned so much about Venezuela--its political and social situations under Chavez--and the mindset of many Hong Kong residents in terms of career path, upward mobility.

Being in the States and often times being spoon fed two distinct views on issues--right or left--one often is enclosed within a box, regardless of how left or right one is. Roldan mentioned to me the other evening, as we were discussing social issues both in his nation and globally, that right or left really holds not much significance, or rather the importance is not simply right or left, but mroe on a matter of humanism, populism--the actual people. Essentially, understand the struggles, the circumstances of individuals rather than aiding them without acquaitance.

One of my greatest aspirations for this trip is simply not the eighteen hours I will be receiving as opposed to the sixteen at home, not the courses I will be enrolled, but more of a personal understanding of the lives of the minority, those forgotten. Here in Budapest, the Gypsies, although local, are regarded as second class citizens. I have plans to interview both Gypsies--to undestand their situations, their toils, and see how they view their place society. Likewise, as my cousin Hao suggested, to talk to the majority--the Hungarians--to conceptualize their persepctive on class and race issues within their own country. Equally important, I feel volunterring for some non-profit organisation here will give me an in depth look to these social issues.

Outside of this, I am greatly enjoying the life here in Budapest. The beautiful architecture, the food, the people, the beer, the relaxing lifestyle. It is really something else. Here are a few picture for you all who read my blog to enjoy.

tran.quy.hac.

Amsterdam.

I have been sitting here at Schiphol Airport for a couple of hours now. I was to believe my flight was leaving here at 10:00 AM, 3 AM Chicago time, but for some unknown reason, my flight leaves at noon. What is going through my head now is somewhat of a mixed feeling. Just earlier today, I was sitting at home with my parents, eating some pho and some goi ga, now I'm in another continent half way across the world, just two hours away from my final destination.

Walking through Schiphol, I get a few gazes and glances here and there--perhaps because of the lack of many Asian folks. I've seen about five to six total. Other than that, the people here seem nice. I went to a coffee shop earlier, and people watched. In a way, I'm watching life pass through my eyes, here in Amsterdam, despite me being only in an airport. They seem to enjoy life. Walking through the airport in Chicago's O'hare Int'l airport, you get a lot of tense looking folks, worried about missing their flight, having all their luggage. The folks here, the ones I've seen seem to be a lot more laid back, as they sip on their coffees, puff their cigarettes, and laugh the time away.

tran.quy.hac

today

Today signifies a few important things. First off, I'd like to wish my parents a very Happy Anniversary, 29 years. We celebrated with family two days ago at the ritual BBQ-King House in Chinatown.

Today also signifies my departure date. I'm leaving the U.S. for about four months at 4:20 PM Central time today. As I enter a new experience, I know for a fact I am going to miss my family. Busy with school, work, and my social life, I often do not spend much time as I'd like with my family. Sometimes I feel as if I'm trying to run away from my life here in Chicago, but at the same time, its for a good reason; to experience the world, and learn through travels and immersion.

See you all in January, and read my blog for updates. More critiques on society, class issues, political issues, volunteerism, etc this time around rather than going out and partying posts.

Until then.

trần, qúy hạc.