CROATiNtern

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Roommate Appreciation Post

I came to Croatia excited and eager to learn -- but I wrongly assumed that my lessons would come directly from my internship or Croatian culture. Of course, I have learned a massive amount from my internship and from being exposed to new cultures. But at the same time, I never could have guessed how much my roommates (technically flatmates but I like the word “roommates” better) would teach me during the short 6-7 weeks we have spent together.

During my first few days in Zagreb, we did several Escape Rooms (which I think I mentioned in a previous post). During one of them, there was a point when some classical music started playing. Immediately, both of my roommates knew the song and the composer, each for different reasons, whereas I don’t know any classical music beyond what I was forced to play in high school band. Looking back, I know that this was the start of an era.

Since then, I have learned about the proper pronouns for drag queens and expanded my knowledge of the lgbtq spectrum. Did you know that communities such as the “foot fetish” community is trying to join lgbtq spectrum? I sure didn’t. I have learned about having parents who are immigrants as opposed to the immigrants in my family who were several generations ago, and about the vast variety of dynamics possible within a family. I have learned a significant amount regarding pop culture and global politics instead of the small bubble of pop culture and politics I usually follow. And of course I have learned significantly more about classical music as well.

I could go on and on, but I know reading that long laundry would be no fun for anyone other than my roommates and I, and I don’t even know if my roommates will ever read this. Besides, the point of this post isn’t to rub how cool my roommates are in your faces (even though they are pretty awesome). Instead, I want to emphasize that I learned so much from a source I had never even considered. I had this horribly incorrect assumption that my roommates would be minor in my experience abroad compared to work.

Which brings me to the most important lesson that they taught me is that in life: education can come from unexpected places. You can’t ever count those around you out; everyone has different upbringings, perspectives, interests, etc. -- which is fairly obvious -- but that means that everyone knows something you do not. And the sooner we all realize that and search out the lessons we have for one another, the better we will all be for it.

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Fisherman’s Bastion; Budapest, Hungary

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Budapest, Hungary

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Liberty Statue; Budapest, Hungary

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Shoes on the Danube Bank; Budapest, Hungary

Memorial for the Jews - men, women, and children - who were killed at this spot. Imagine if this was the last place you ever stood. 

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Ethnography Museum Quotation; Ljubljana, Slovenia

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The Little Things

The other day, after work I went to a movie theater and saw Wonderwoman. I know this sounds entirely unexciting -- you’re probably wondering why such a bland event is the topic of my blog post. But the truth is that I felt guilty going to see a movie; I only have two month here in Eastern Europe, why was I doing something I could just as easily do in the United States? I walked into that theater feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was wasting my time.

The minute I sat down, however, I realized that it was not a waste. Sitting among an audience of Croats, of other hardworking citizens of Zagreb, we were all relaxing in the same way. It was one community sharing the movie, and I was a part of it. For the first time this summer, I felt like I wasn’t living abroad in Zagreb, and that instead I was living here. When I go to museums or historical landmarks, I am surrounded by tourists. I become a tourist by association. But sitting in the movie theater, I was surrounded by locals, and I felt a little more like a local too. Of course, I understand that I am not truly a local and never will be. But I’m also not just a tourist; I go to work, I grocery shop, I have responsibilities.

Going to the movie, I realized that I don’t always have to force myself to constantly be doing touristy things. I am here in Zagreb for two months -- that’s an incredibly long time to consider yourself an outsider. And if I spend my entire time here feeling like I am a tourist, not only will it be draining, but I also will only experience life here on a surface level. I need to work on seeing myself not as a tourist, but as a person. Besides the big weekend trips and hours carved out for museums, I need to allow myself to experience the little things.

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Hostel Celica hang out spot; Ljubljana, Slovenia

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Zagreb 360; Zagreb, Croatia

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View from Hostel Celica; Ljubljana, Slovenia

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Love Locks; Ljubljiana, Slovenia

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Lake Bled; Bled, Slovenia

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A Response to Tourist Ignorance

On my final day in Slovenia this weekend, I heard something that really ground my gears. 

As several other interns and myself were waiting for a bus, an elderly woman poked her way into our conversation and asked if we were from Michigan. The block M on one of our shirts had caught her attention, as she herself went to school at Michigan State. She started talking to us and introduced to us her travel companion, and we began discussing their trip so far. As we spoke, the second woman asserted, “You know, in Croatia they kept going on and on about their corrupt government. It was just too much!” The first woman emphatically agreed. 

The comment really rubbed me the wrong way, although at the time I wasn’t sure why. But as I chewed and digested the conversation, I eventually realized why it had bothered me so much: their annoyance with Croatian politics seemed indicative of their complete lack of consideration and concern for citizens beyond the US.

Eastern Europe has a history of major conflicts about every 50 years. There have been multiple instances of ethnic cleansing, systematic rape, and at least two officially declared genocides. No one wants to repeat the past, but with a corrupt government, repetition seems inevitable as the true problems of the past continue unsolved. Croats can, and should, worry about, rant, and discuss their corrupt government as much as they want -- that is the only way anything will ever change. To say that “it was just too much”, to wish that Croatians cared and thus spoke less about their government, is to say that they should be mindless citizens, patiently perpetuating the pattern of atrocities. It is completely unfair to expect another country’s political problems to conveniently move out of vacationers’ paths, especially in a place with a history of inhumanity.

I am sure the women were not bad intentioned. I am sure they simply did not know or did not think about the history behind their words. But it is my opinion that as tourists, we must strive to understand in entirety the places we visit. Otherwise what is the point of being a tourist? And if you don’t want to understand your destination in its entirety, if you only want a 2-D version of the country you’re traveling through, I suggest you stop traveling and look up some pictures. You’ll save a lot of money and be just as satisfied. 

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Communication

The right side of my body is weighed down by an oversized bag of wet clothing while the left side of my body balances my jingling keys in my hand. Barefoot, I stumble out of my apartment into the complex’s backyard garden. I begin to hang up my dripping clothes on the drying rack, hoping the hot sun will help me out and dry them in time for my trip to Slovenia. It is a slightly laborious but peaceful task. 

But then that peace shatters. A screaming voice floats around me, coming from everywhere although there is no one in sight. I drop the shirt I was hanging up and look around, unsure of what to do. I finally spot a window near my feet and am surprised to find an elderly Croatian lady staring up at me through the glass. And she is PISSED. 

She screams and screams while I repeat and repeat “English, I’m sorry, I speak English”. Each time she says, “English?” and then resumes screaming in Croatian, mostly “Ne” or no in English, plus a lot of shaking her head emphatically. I grab all of my clothing and leave, unsure of what to do. 

I have since confirmed with the landlord and several other individuals that the garden is indeed communal, and that I am allowed access to it, therefore I was not doing anything wrong. I am left here pondering what in the world she was yelling about. 

With the exception of my college psychology class where my professor told me I should seek help learning to communicate, communication has always been my forte. From writing to art to speaking, I have always felt confident in my ability to communicate. Even when I was in Spain and the Dominican Republic, I found ways to communicate when my rusty Spanish would not do the trick. This was truly my first encounter where there was, and is, absolutely no way for me to decipher the situation. 

And utter lack of communication is scary. To have such a complete disconnect with someone is jarring. I’m sure this will happen again many more times in my life considering the global majors I aspire towards, but I imagine I will never become used to it. I already knew that the world was large, but today I saw it was massive -- but this time less so with the element of geography and more so with the element of language. 

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Suspicious Cat (who lives in my backyard); Zagreb, Croatia

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Perception

Yesterday at my internship, one of my supervisors wandered into the office and pointed at a strange cardboard cutout near the door. “Do you know him?” he asked me. I looked at the strange outline of a man riding a horse (plus a real scarf that had been placed around his neck). “I don’t think so...” I cautiously answered, wondering where this conversation would lead.

He immediately launched into explanation, saying that the cutout was Croatia’s first president, Franjo Tudjman. There are currently plans to memorialize Tudjman by erecting a 3.5 meter tall statue in Zagreb, in which he will be depicted as a hero, my supervisor told me. 

At this point, the entire office jumped into the conversation. Employees leaked into the room, and suddenly I was surrounded by people speaking in bursts of passion. They said Tudjman was not in fact a hero, but rather an antisemitic, racist, communist leader. Their voices overlapped one another as they collectively explained that the cardboard cutout was their own version of what his statue should truly be: not a hero but instead a man on a horse, arm outstretched and pointing, presumably giving some sort of harsh command.

Although the conversation had a comical air the entire time -- everyone was laughing about the ridiculousness of his real statue versus their own -- I was struck by the darkness at the core of the moment. Even though Croatia outwardly seems to be leaving the worst part of its history behind, the government is still trying to control perceptions of the past. And the perceptions they are choosing to enforce are perceptions that will only lead Croatia right back into conflict.

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Dolac Market; Zagreb, Croatia