The first two weeks after returning from Transylvania were difficult, given my 3-pages-per-hour reading speed. The program started out more intellectual, especially through reading Sebastian’s novel. But at this point, I am just enjoying the program and the rest of my time in this region. It has been a very enjoyable program, definitely one of my favorite terms at Carleton.
Without having a single person I could talk to daily in Mandarin, I have begun to think more in English, while my Mandarin has more or less deteriorated. The lingua franca may be dominant — and perhaps rightfully so for the convenience it brings — but keeping a good balance could be beneficial too. As to what benefits, I need to think more. It could be a fear of being distanced from the place I grew up in. Norman Manea, in The Hooligan’s Return, claims “home” in the Romanian language. Maybe that feeling also exists for me, in Mandarin. Or perhaps there is simply value in having different mediums of thinking.
Onto the Balkans: I really liked the Belgrade fortress. Local activities seem to blend with it — children, teenagers — making the place feel more than a tourist destination. Our guide later also told us about how many people would be along the edges of the fortress to watch the sun set. It must be a beautiful scene. With a bit of exploration, I also found quiet spots where I could simply enjoy, alone, the wind and distant sounds while looking down at the city.
Sebastian’s “regal Danube”…our cruise on the Danube was enjoyable too: wind and waves. Our guide talked about local attitudes towards the waterfront project — a considerable economic investment, constructing large modern buildings for tourism and upper-class consumption — but one whose demolitions were disliked by many locals. This reminds me of Sebastian’s plum trees: the pain of modernization when what is lost resists numerical measure. Such losses thus may not be able to be compared with “gains”, across the barrier of perspective.
We had plenty of long drives, which I actually didn’t hate. This may be one of the benefits of not having close friends on the program: I get to claim two seats on the bus. We encountered some unexpected problems along the way, but accidents within certainty can be charming — with the clear knowledge that all you have to do is wait.
The street art walking tour in Mostar was very interesting. There is a particular power in “everyday art”: people see it whenever they walk by or look out their windows. The organizers of street art festivals, who also led our tour, really tried to give beauty and meaning back to the city’s public space through this unique medium — a city still wounded from previous conflicts. Artists from around the world, such as South America, contacted them to participate even without financial support or professional equipment. Admirable, their almost cowboy-ish spirit of work and solidarity. I wonder what is unique about this community, and perhaps how we can give this kind of spirit to other social spaces too.
Lectures in Sarajevo were some of my favorites. Most lecturers there are opinionated and advocate for their beliefs without reservation — passionate, and though sometimes disappointed in the direction things are heading, continuing to stand firm. One could argue that activism and immersion in a single opinion can be limiting, but I find part of that very respectable, people who manage to find and fight for their beliefs. These talks were a nice complement to the more neutral teachings in school courses.
I particularly enjoyed a talk from a visual artist. He photographs/films everyday objects and arranges them to look “special”. For example, he filmed people, like migrants, doing things that seem strange by society’s standards, like repeatedly walking up and down a platform. He also built little prisms from leaves or forks and photographed them before the wind broke them apart in seconds. I like how he finds these small attempts that claim and mark individual existence and temporary beauty, in a society that seems somewhat negligent of those. In this sense, every photo becomes the artist’s resistance, and that exists in both the photo and the process of creating it. I admire his awareness of his surroundings, and his drive to record it and create from it. This awareness, I would want to believe, is something technology (AI, for instance) cannot replace.
The return to Bucharest felt almost like returning home. Perhaps “home-ness” is relative too. There’s an old Chinese poem/lyric that translates to something like “where the heart settles is my home”. Perhaps some day any place in the world could be home. Except for food though – here, China is indeed objectively superior. Just another two weeks to go.