I have never traveled to Europe beyond the Balkans, and to be frank, I thought my first trip to Europe would be to a conventional tourist-heavy country like Italy or France. I am happy it wasn’t.
Bucharest, the main destination of the program, exposed me to a side of Europe I was already familiar with: a city where worn sidewalks and a mix of architecture reflected its dark past. It resembled Sarajevo and Tuzla in its stories, both cities I have previously spent a lot of time in.
However, our recent excursion to Transylvania mirrored features I have only seen in images of Western Europe. Cities like Brasov and Cluj in Transylvania had a Western aesthetic, but instead of walking the streets of Milan or Paris, I stood at the intersection of Hungary, Serbia, Moldova, Bulgaria, and Ukraine.
The more I walked the streets of Transylvania, the more I was confused by the region: was this a negotiation with Western Europe or a transformation into it? I was unable to understand whether cities like Cluj were trying to redefine what it means to be European or if they were trying to Westernize themselves.
I felt Transylvania’s urge to be heard by Western countries. I felt the presence of the European Union through flags lining the streets, modern architecture, and visible investments. In Bosnia, Europe feels more distant, but the desire for European recognition is clear, just in a much quieter way.
We had the honor of hearing from Marius Lazar on Mirroring nationalisms in Transylvania: Lessons from a Sociological Fieldwork on our third day in Cluj. He shared how Hungarians in Transylvania maintain strong political, social, and religious connections with Hungary and its government. This reminded me of Bosnia’s own internal divisions, particularly with Republika Srpska. Many Serbs in Bosnia maintain similar connections with Serbia much like Hungarians in Romania have with Hungary–sparking an interesting epiphany that internal divisions stretch beyond the Balkans, and especially across borders in the European Union. The parallel is not entirely relevant, but it reminded me that identity may function differently across borders and that the European Union also continues to grapple with identity politics.
Still, it felt like both the cities of Cluj and Brasov were seeking connection and recognition. I realized I understood this feeling: wanting to be seen, heard, and perhaps understood. This may be because of my Bosnian heritage and the suffering Bosnians endured just 31 years ago, my first-generation background, or perhaps from being a woman. Or maybe it is all of these.
To me, being in Bosnia often means being understood without explanation. I left Transylvania unsure if I had been understood or if I had simply projected my own need to be seen onto a place that is still working on defining itself. Transylvania did not give me answers about identity, belonging, and culture that I had inherently sought as a Bosnian-American. Maybe that is exactly what made this experience so beautiful. I arrived ready to categorize the region as Eastern or Western but instead, I realized that these categories are less clear than I had thought.
Because I grew up between two cultures and identities where half the time I belonged to only one of them and half the time I belonged to both, I had convinced myself that identity has a clear-cut definition. I had convinced myself that Transylvania’s too would be clearly defined.
Instead, I learned that my own perception of Europe relies on these categories. I now believe it is okay that I did not leave with a clear understanding of Translyvania’s identity because I came to the realization that identity is not a question with a singular answer, but rather it is constantly negotiated.